


The Boy Who Wanted To Run With Wolves

by lady_eliot_writes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, M/M, Magic Stiles, Mates, The Alpha Pack, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, jennifer is ursula basically, my retellings are not disney movies, scott is a great wingman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_eliot_writes/pseuds/lady_eliot_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where turning someone into a werewolf has more red tape than the DMV and takes years to sort out, Stiles can't seem to find an easy way to get what he wants most of all: The bite. </p><p>So naturally, he does what anyone would do, he makes a deal with an estranged emmisary of an extinct pack to become a werewolf. But as we all know, these kinds of deals don't come without a price. </p><p> </p><p>(inspired by the Little Mermaid, not a direct re-telling)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble In Beacon Hills

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first piece in the Teen Wolf fandom and I'm very excited to see where it goes. I'm not sure what my update schedule is going to be like because I have a crazy couple of weeks coming up but I have it planned (at least vaguely) out till the end. No idea how long it will end up but it wouldn't be unheard of for it to be close to my last work which was 33,000ish words. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> xoxox Lady.Eliot

“Stiles you’ve had some really dumb ideas, but I’m pretty sure this one leaves all those other dumb ideas in the dust”

 

Stiles whipped around to face Scott, widened his eyes and raised his finger to his lips in a silencing motion. Scott rolled his eyes at his friend and shook his head, voice loud in the still silence of the dark forest.

 

“If anyone’s out tonight they heard us coming twenty minutes ago. Actually, I think the only way we could have been less subtle is if we had driven your Jeep through the underbrush with the Spice Girls pounding.”

 

Stiles swung a punch at his best friend’s shoulder, narrowly missing. Scott smirked at him.

 

“No, you know what wolf-butt, I don’t like that look.”

 

Scott laughed, the sound echoing back at them through the trees.

 

“You can’t even see me.”

 

Stiles huffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

 

“I don’t have to see you to know that I don’t like your stupid face.”

 

 Scott gently shoved his friend in the side, sending him sprawling, unable to catch himself before he tumbled into a bush. Stiles scrambled up sputtering and spitting leaves out of his mouth. He leveled an unimpressed stare somewhere in Scott’s direction as he picked stray leaves out of his hair and off his clothes. Scott covered his mouth, trying his best not to let Stiles hear how funny he found the situation.

 

“Ha ha, laugh it up fur-face. We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m part of the town’s awesome pack and you’re still hanging out with two humans, a werewolf reject, an ex-hunter and a banshee.”  


Scott rolled his eyes at Stiles, moving farther into the woods.

 

“You do know that they could actually kill me if they found me on their land right?”

 

Stiles’ smile dropped off his face and he squared his shoulders, following closely behind Scott. He squinted against the darkness, trying to pick his way more carefully through the underbrush.

 

“They’re not going to kill you. Just like they’re not going to kill me”

 

“And why is that again?”

 

Stiles scoffed.

 

“I am much too cute to die Scott.”

 

Scott sighed.

 

“For some reason I doubt that’s going to be much help.”

 

Stiles slung an arm around Scott’s shoulders and pulled him in roughly, rubbing his knuckles through the shaggy hair on his friend’s head. Scott growled at the treatment but allowed it, shoulders bunching up in protest of the action.

 

“Come on Scotty, where’s your sense of adventure!”

 

Stiles broke away from Scott, picking his way through the underbrush and leaving Scott looking at the back of the red hoodie that was quickly getting farther and farther away.

 

“Where’s your sense of self-preservation?”

 

Stiles just laughed.

 

“Psh! Self-preservation is for old people.”

 

Scott started to follow Stiles, head slumped in defeat.

 

“People who are still alive you mean?”

 

Stiles pretended not to hear his friend, and kept walking into the woods. Scott paused in his tracks. His eyes widened and he took a few lunging steps after Stiles, reaching out a hand to stop him and catching him by the hood. Scott reeled Stiles in by the sweater and wrapped a hand around Stiles’ mouth, cutting off all the loud, gasping protests Stiles was making. Scott stood perfectly still, arms wrapped around Stiles in a vain attempt to keep his flailing limbs still. Stiles wriggled for a moment but grew still as he caught on. Scott moved his hand away from Stiles’ mouth. Both boys stood in the forest, silent except their breathing, exhales coming out in white clouds. Scott moved so he could whisper directly into Stiles’ ear. His voice came out as a hissing stream of air, barely words at all.

 

“Could you calm down Stiles, your heart is beating so fast I can’t even think.”

 

Stiles narrowed his eyes and hissed back.

 

“Oh I’m sorry Scott, maybe it has something to do with the fact you just _attacked me_ out of nowhere.”

 

Scott growled very quietly, so quietly that Stiles felt it more than heard it. He tightened his hold on Stiles’ limbs, squeezing almost past the point of comfort.

 

“You smell like prey.”

 

Stiles stiffened and squirmed a bit, trying to look at Scott. Scott didn’t let him budge.

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

Scott looked around, scanning trees for movement.

 

“It means if something’s out there, you’re basically a neon sign. Now calm down before every werewolf in a hundred mile radius finds us.”

 

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, taking calming breaths and focusing on the feeling of his best friend still reassuringly wrapped around him. His heartbeat started to even out until he felt Scott tense up behind him, claws suddenly sharp against his side.

 

Scott let loose a threatening growl and pulled Stiles behind him, shifting in the space between one of Stiles’ frantic heartbeats and the next. In the gap between the trees up ahead, a set of red glowing eyes watched them. Stiles felt his pulse skyrocket and even Scott couldn’t claim that his pulse stayed even. Scott half turned his head, keeping an eye on the creature and spoke to Stiles out of the corner of his mouth.

 

“Stiles when I lunge, you run. Tap my shoulder once if you understand.”

 

Stiles stayed frozen, no sign of recognition.

 

“ _Stiles!_ ”

 

Stiles nodded shakily before coming to his senses with a shake of his head, tapping Scotts shoulder once decisively. Scott took a deep breath and tensed to spring.

 

What happened next was all a blur for Stiles, things happening too quickly for his human senses to comprehend. Scott lunged forward with a snarl, directly at the red eyes of the other wolf in the trees.

 

Stiles lurched into action, stumbling loudly through the underbrush, clothes catching on brambles and low hanging branches. His heart pounded so hard that he was pretty sure if he stopped it would leap out of his chest like in a retro cartoon. He staggered through the trees, occasionally clipping a shoulder or wrist off of a tree trunk that came up too fast for him to avoid. It was too dark for his human senses, the dense tree canopy blocking out the meagre starlight that was barely enough to illuminate the moonless night. In the distance he could hear snarls and the sound of wood splintering and it made him run even faster.

 

Before he could register the sight ahead of him and stop or at the very least change his course, he barreled into the chest of a very large and very pissed off looking werewolf. He squeaked, a manly squeak, he would later maintain. A low growl radiated out of the chest Stiles suddenly found himself up close and personal with and he absently noticed that it was a very firm, nice chest, before he started fearing for his life. The werewolf he was pressed against, wrapped an arm around him and bodily tossed Stiles over his shoulder.

 

Stiles squirmed and flailed his limbs, punching the broad back as they moved swiftly through the woods. The werewolf just grunted and wrapped his arm more securely around Stiles’ legs growling a quiet.

 

“Stop. Moving.”

 

It was ground out with such authority that Stiles immediately found himself going still and letting the werewolf carry him. It was then that he noticed that they were moving incredibly quietly through the brush. Also he was very up close and personal with a frankly incredible specimen of werewolf booty. Stiles could feel his face growing hot, partially from embarrassment and partially from all the blood rushing to his head where he was so carelessly slung over the stranger’s shoulder.

 

All of a sudden the ground rushed up to meet him, and Stiles landed in a heap on the floor on a smooth, cold surface. He groaned and the werewolf rolled his eyes. His eyes flashed blue for a brief second as he growled.

 

“Stop making so much noise.”

 

The werewolf crowded into his space, pushing him into an open cavern that he hadn’t noticed. He crowded Stiles to the back, barely able to squeeze in after him. They were pressed chest to back, Stiles breathing almost directly into the werewolf’s ear. Stiles shifted a little bit, trying to avoid a sharp outcropping of rock that was trying to get intimate with his spine and the large werewolf growled.

 

“Stop.”

 

Stiles huffed and tensed up. Hissing into the werewolf’s ear, trying not to make a lot of noise.

 

“Look buddy, my friend is out there by himself, fighting some strange werewolf, while another werewolf, also a stranger by the way, has me sandwiched in a sardine tin with him. Scott could be dead!”

 

The werewolf huffed.

 

“He’s not dead.”

 

Stiles narrowed his eyes and would have crossed his arms if he had the space to move even an inch.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

The werewolf sucked an annoyed breath through his nose, tilting his head back slightly in frustration, which conveniently brought it very near to being on Stiles’ shoulder.

 

“I heard him get away but Deucalion is still out there so, stop talking.”

 

Stiles’ heart rate picked up.

 

“Deucalion? You know the guy who attacked Scott?”

 

Derek growled lowly. Stiles felt it against his chest rather than heard it.

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

Stiles pushed on him slightly, trying to get the other man to let him out.

 

“Stop squirming.”

 

Stiles pushed harder.

 

“No! I don’t even know you and you know the possibly murderous werewolf that just attacked scott and I, and why should I listen to you? I don’t even know your name.”

 

The werewolf slid a hand behind him, gripping Stiles’ wrist and threatening a hint of claws. Stiles gulped loudly but stopped talking. They sat like that in silence for a few minutes, the werewolf in a defensive stance and tense. He strained to listen, and after some signal that Stiles couldn’t hear, he relaxed and let out a heavy breath, finally loosening his death grip on Stiles’ wrist.

 

“Derek. Derek Hale.”

 


	2. Cosmic Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool, so apparently this is going to somewhat shift perspectives (3rd person with focus on different characters to show all the things I want to show) 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all enjoy it :)

Derek didn’t know why the universe continuously insisted on punishing him like this. Was it because of all those pranks he pulled as a kid? Because he never listened to his mother when she was trying to teach him how to hunt? He swore on the well-being of his pack that if he got out of this one unscathed and no worse for the wear, that he would never roll his eyes at his mother or pester his sisters ever again. Hell, he would do literally anything for this night to be over. Not only was he forced to take Isaac’s patrol because the other beta had test in the morning, but the usually quiet woods had to have not just one intruder but three. 

The reason he was out here at all, was because of Deucalion poking his nose around where it didn’t belong and taking too close of an interest in not just the pack but Derek and one of the other young werewolves in town, probably the one who was now leading him on a merry chase around the reserve, trying to outrun him. Derek had rolled his eyes, knowing that if Deucalion was letting the stupid young pup get away it was because he had plans for him that went further than decorating the forest floor of the Hale Pack’s territory with the boy’s body. That or the boy wasn’t worth the attention that killing him would stir up with the local governing pack, the Hales. The pack that Derek was in training to one day take over.

Technically, as the governing pack of the territory, the Hales were supposed to be the only pack in town but last year a rogue alpha had rampaged through town, turning a few local kids before he could be taken down. Of course it was one of the freshly turned kids who took him down too. It couldn’t have been the town’s many retired hunters. That would have been far too convenient. No, of course the kid had to go and kill the rogue himself, becoming a brand new werewolf and an alpha in the span of just a few weeks. If that wasn’t enough to fuck someone up for life Derek didn’t know what was. 

And then, to top it all off, the government found out about what had happened in Beacon Hills. And shit hit the fan. Derek sometimes wished things could go back to simpler times, before people everyone knew that the nightmares of legend weren’t quite as legendary as they once seemed. Things were so much easier back then. Werewolves could turn people at will, deal with their own justice and punishment, negotiate their own treaties and fight over their own disputes without the government sticking their noses into places they didn’t belong. By now, ten years after the big supernatural reveal of ’03, the government had imposed more rules than he could even keep track of half the time and there were so many hoops to jump through to turn a new member of the pack that it almost wasn’t worth it. The only people who they could even apply to turn were pre-bonded potential mates, and people with diseases that would be cured by the bite and consented to get it as a treatment plan. And in dire, dire emergencies, friends or allies of the pack that were literally drowning in their own blood, on the verge of death could be turned, but it would usually end in a government inquiry. 

The government imposed rules for conversion and conduct did little to make the humans feel safer, still shying away from the wolves on the street and walking a little faster when they saw a flash of eyes or claws. It was frustrating, but it was the natural way of things. Werewolves were apex predators, capable of killing a human within the space between their heartbeats.

Although it was a frustrating stereotype, Derek understood where it came from. In reality, you would be hard pressed to find a werewolf who actually would kill a human intentionally. Just because they were predators didn’t mean they were eager to make themselves killers. They might not be human but they had morals. 

Two of the pack members had even been convinced to join local law enforcement as supernatural liaisons. Derek was just immensely glad that it hadn’t been him chosen by his mother to work with the police. He wasn’t exactly a “people-person” and his face seemed to make people more nervous than anything and Laura had outright laughed in his face when he had volunteered out of a sense of duty. In the end their mother had chosen Laura and Boyd for the job, hoping that it would help draw Boyd out of his shell. The force had been reluctant at first, but had quickly warmed up to the Hale pack. 

The members of the Hale pack held a public ceremony and celebration every spring to publically renew their vows to protect humans whenever possible and celebrate the partnership between humans and werewolves. The vows were nothing new, and had been made unofficially since the start of the Hale bloodline, but it was Talia’s hope that by going public they would make the citizens of Beacon Hills feel a little bit safer.

And it was those exact vows that have brought Derek to now. Pressed against a human boy who can’t be much older than 18 or 19 as a bloodthirsty alpha chases another alpha, young and stupid, through the woods. As much as he would have loved to have passed by, pretending to hear nothing, back to his warm bed and his Netflix queue, Derek liked to believe that he wasn’t actually a monster. The kid behind him might have disagreed because he was obviously terrified and shaking like a leaf. At this point they were both probably regretting, if not being born, at least getting up this morning. 

He didn’t know why it was that he was being punished, but what he did know was that it was one hell of a punishment, because just when he thought tonight couldn’t be any worse, the adrenaline of getting the human to safety and avoiding Deucalion had worn off, and he became all too aware of the surprisingly solid weight of the human pressed against his back. As he relaxed, finally sure Deucalion was gone, he felt the tension start to leave the boy. The sour smell of his fear started to dissipate and of course, because the universe hated Derek, the boy smelled delicious. 

He smelled like a warm evening in front of a fire, like old books and the end of childhood, like spice cookies and sunshine. He smelled like home. Like mate. Or to be more specific, he smelled about as damn close as you can as a human. He was missing the dark forest smell of wolf. Which made Derek think that someone was looking out for him, because if he were this close to his actual mate, his instincts would have been going haywire. As it was, his instincts were buzzing and making it hard to concentrate. A growl poured out of him before he could stop it and he could smell the sour note of fear seeping through the warm smell of the boy. That smell made it both easier and harder for Derek to rein in his wolf. Easier because it made Derek not want as badly to roll around in that smell forever, but harder because his instincts were screaming at him to stop frightening the boy. The boy cleared his throat nervously, shifting slightly in discomfort. 

“Uh, dude are you ok?”

Derek scowled harder against his instinct to preen at the boy’s concern.  
“Yes.”

He could practically hear the boy roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, well, forgive me if I don’t believe you because you’ve been making sounds like a sad squeaky toy for the last minute and a half”

Derek flushed in embarrassment, not even aware that he had been whining like an injured pup. He silently prayed to all that is holy that Laura never heard about this. 

“Cool, um, if the big scary werewolf is gone I would love to get out of this cave. It smells like something might have died in here.”

Derek hesitated for a moment, memorizing the feeling of safety that he felt around the boy and knowing that this could very well be the last time he saw the boy. He stepped away, clearing his throat and shaking his head to attempt to clear his head of all the noise of his raging instincts. He turned and stepped back, making enough room for the boy to step out of the cavern and past him. He smiled at the boy but it felt awkward and false on his face, twisting into a sort of grimace that he hoped the boy didn’t see. 

The smell was less difficult to handle in the open and Derek breathed in large lungfuls of air in an attempt to clear his head. The boy shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet, wringing his hands in front of him. 

“So, um, thank you, for uh, saving my life.”

The boy cringed at the awkward wording, before realizing with a blush that the werewolf could see him in the dark and then overcorrecting his features into a blank mask. 

“So I’m just going to go then. Nice meeting you, um Derek?”

Derek growled and caught the boys arm, gripping maybe a little too hard. 

“Who are you and why were you in the woods tonight?”

It was barely even a question and the boy raised an eyebrow at the lack of inflection. He squared his shoulders, subtly pulling on his arm to test the grip and quickly giving up when he knew he was trapped. 

“Well, you see, I have this friend Scott who is a werewolf and honestly, he’s pretty boring. Doesn’t do any werewolf things at all really, just kind of sits around and plays video games and texts his girlfriend and I wanted to see what like real werewolves did, like you know the ones who were born instead of bitten? Well obviously you know, you’re probably one of them. I mean of course you’re one of them. Look at those eyebrows those are definitely Hale eyebr-“

Derek growled and rolled his eyes. 

“Enough.”

The boy stilled for a split second before going back to fidgeting, twitching his hands around.  
“These woods are dangerous and you could have died.”

The boy rolled his eyes and pulled his arm towards him. Derek let his hold soften somewhat, but kept a hand locked around the boys arm. The boy looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“Thanks Dad.”

Derek growled, eyes glowing blue and teeth itching as if trying to drop. The boy flinched away and Derek let his hand drop off the boy’s arm, still able to feel the boy’s heat. 

“Don’t come back here.”

The boy looked at him in confusion. 

“Go.”

The boy hesitated a moment before starting to back away slowly, not turning his back towards Derek. Derek met his eyes defiantly, the icy blue still bright in the darkness of the woods. 

“GO”

The boy stumbled backwards faster before getting far enough that he felt safe turning away from Derek and running. He caught himself in the underbrush and stumbled a bit, limbs flailing as he ran away. Derek’s claws pricked his palms where his hands had formed themselves into fists and he draws a deep breath in through his nose and expels it before following the boy. 

It hurts his instincts to see him leave but this is safer. He’ll be safe as long as he gets out of the woods. So Derek followed behind, far enough the boy can’t hear or see him, until he heard the sound of an engine turning over and a car speeding away. He let out a breath of relief and turned to trudge back to his family house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Derek may or may not have just white-fang'ed Stiles... )


	3. Mystery Hottie

“…and I swear to god Scott, he was the hottest man I have ever seen in my life”

 

Scott rolled his eyes and hit his shoulder against Stiles, causing Stiles’ Mario kart to go careening off the side of the track. Stiles swore under his breath and struggled to catch up to Scott, turning onto his back and flailing his legs to ward off Scott’s attempts to cheat. Scott smirked and launched himself onto the flailing legs, pinning them to the floor. He rolled onto his back, so he was draped over Stiles, still steering Yoshi flawlessly onscreen. Stiles was pinned under Scott, desperately trying to wriggle out from underneath his best friend. Scott yelled in triumph as he came in first and pumped his fists up as he flung the controller aside. From underneath him, Stiles’ muffled groan of disappointment could be heard and Stiles dropped his controller to the floor in defeat.

 

“Off Scotty! You weigh a million pounds and smell like wet dog.”

 

Scott rolled off of Stiles until they were sprawled on the carpet side by side. He laughed triumphantly and Stiles rolled his eyes.

 

“Oh come off it, that wasn’t fair and you know it.”

 

Scott turned his head to look at his friend, widening his eyes and pouting slightly, affecting an air of innocence.

 

“Stop it with the puppy eyes. We said no wolf powers during Mario-kart! My fragile ego can’t take losing at video games too.”

 

Scott rolled his eyes and threw his arm over his face.

 

“So I’m interested to find out how you know he was the hottest man you’ve ever seen if it was pitch black.”

 

Stiles narrowed his eyes at his friend, looking over at him before huffing and laying back down in the carpet.

 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that distraction tactic there Balto.”

 

Scott huffed.

 

“Balto wasn’t even a wolf Stiles.”

 

Stiles smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“He was half wolf, you’re half wolf…I fail to see the difference here.”

 

Scott rolled on top of Stiles, causing stiles to let out a groan of discomfort and all of the air in his lungs. Scott laid there, a deadweight on top of Stiles as the human tried to pry the heavy limbs off of him.

 

“Ok, I yield. Now do you want to help me with the hot guy or not?”

 

Scott moved off of Stiles, although he let a few of his limbs “accidentally” jab him in the stomach and the soft parts of his legs.

 

“I hate you Scott.”

 

“I love you too Stiles.”

 

Stiles glared at his best friend who proceeded to smile his sunniest smile back at Stiles. Stiles grumbled about the difficulty of staying mad at a face like that and stretched for a pillow that was just out of his reach.

 

“Ok anyways, werewolf hottie.”

 

Scott smiled, curling up on his side to listen to his friend.

 

“Yeah, yeah mystery hottie, get on with it, I have to go take dinner to my mom at seven.”

 

Stiles lifted into a half sitting position to look at the clock and then took the pillow in his hand and hit Scott in the face with it.

 

“It’s only two o’clock you asshole. And he’s not a mystery hottie, I know his name.”

 

Scott laughed and tucked the pillow under his head. Stiles glared and snagged another pillow, tucking it under his head with a huff. Scott giggled and pushed his side affectionately.

 

“I just know how much you like to talk once you get going, and if this is anything like Lydia we’re going to be here for- Wait what’s his name?”

 

Stiles smiled dreamily.

 

“Derek.”

 

Scott scrunched his face in concentration. Stiles looked over at Scott/

 

“Why do you look constipated Scott?”

 

Scott rolled his eyes at Stiles’ remark and pulled a blanket close to him, settling into a nest of blankets.

 

“I’m trying to remember which one Derek is. I’ve only met the whole pack once.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes fondly.

 

“Do you want me to describe him for you?” Stiles asked, before muttering “so you can tell me everything you know about him.”

 

Scott nodded, gesturing that Stiles should proceed.

 

“So he was tall, or at least I seemed pretty far off the ground when he had me over his shoulder.”

 

Scott laughed.

 

“That’s not going to help me narrow it down Stiles. All of the Hale pack are like freakishly tall.”

 

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, concentrating.

 

“He was wearing a leather jacket.”

 

Scott rolled his eyes.

 

“They all wear leather jackets.”

 

Stiles huffed in frustration.

 

“He had eyebrows like this,” Stiles held his fingers up against his own face in angry slants. “And he had really broad shoulders and let me tell you, I didn’t get much of a chance to look at it, but that man had a glorious ass.”

 

Scott looked at him, face scrunched in confusion.

 

“So if you didn’t get to see it much how do you know it was _glorious_?”

 

Stiles wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at his best friend.

 

“Well he had me pinned between the wall and his back, and parts of me were very appreciative of parts of him that were touching the aforementioned parts of me.’

 

Scott groaned and yanked the pillow out from under his head and launched it at Stiles.

 

“Gross, dude!”

 

Stiles laughed, holding the pillow against his chest and curling around it.

 

“Oh please, as if you don’t tell me everything about you and Allison.”

 

Scott blushed and folded his arm under his head where his pillow had been.

 

“Ok whatever, tall, leather jacket, broad shoulders, and nice ass? That’s all you have for me to go on?”

 

Stiles looked at his friend incredulously.

 

“Is that not enough?”

 

Scott smirked at Stiles.

“Dude have you seen the hale pack?”

 

Stiles sighed in defeat.

 

“Yeah you’re right.”

 

They laid there in silence for a moment, Scott concentrating on his knowledge of the Hale pack and trying to narrow down who it could be. Stiles picked at the carpet and waited, knowing better than to interrupt Scott when he had his “thinking face” on. Scott’s eyes widened and he looked at Stiles in alarm.

 

“What colour eyes did he have?’

 

Stiles raised an eyebrow at his friend.

 

“Blue, why?”

 

Scott sucked in a pained breath.

 

“Ok, I’ve narrowed it down to two, but neither of them is an ideal.”

 

Stiles looked at him, confused.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Scott picked at the carpet, not meeting Stiles’ eyes.

 

“Well once of them is like 35 and the other one…”

 

Stiles huffed impatiently.

 

“What _about_ the other one?”

 

Scott cringed, hesitating for a moment before exhaling loudly.

 

“Next spring, he’s going to become the Alpha.”

 

Stiles squeaked, eyes widening.

 

“The Alpha?”

 

Scott looked at him apologetically.

 

“The Alpha.”

 

Stiles let out a disappointed breath, moving into a sitting position. His shoulders slumped and he looked down at his hands. Scott moved into a sitting positing opposite him, crossing his legs and reaching out a comforting hand to his best friend.

 

“I’m sorry Stiles.”

Stiles smiled sadly at his best friend and shrugged his shoulders.

 

“It’s not your fault that an Alpha won’t date a human.”

 

Scott gently pulled his friend into an awkward seated hug. Stiles let out a breath against Scott’s shoulder and let his friend comfort him. Scott hesitated for a minute, deciding if it was worth pressing the issue.

 

“Can’t”

 

Stiles pulled away, looking at his friend in confusion. He titled his head to the side and waited for Scott to elaborate.

 

“An Alpha _can’t_ date a human.”

 

Stiles’ eyebrows drew together.

 

“What do you mean can’t?”

 

Scott sighed and drew his legs up against his chest, hugging his knees.

 

“It’s too dangerous. Not only would an Alpha-mate mean interacting with hostile werewolves constantly, and acting as a liaison with other supernatural creatures, but an Alpha’s mate means running the pack with the Alpha, which a human physically can’t do. And humans aren’t strong enough to take a mating bite from an Alpha anyways so Alpha’s can’t ‘date’ humans because really for werewolves dating is just pre-mating courting.”

 

Stiles sighed.

 

“I guess that makes sense.”

 

Scott stood up and offered a hand to Stiles.

 

“It still sucks. Let’s go eat too much ice cream and then regret it for the rest of the day.”

 

Stiles laughed and grabbed his friend’s hand and followed him to the kitchen.

Stiles didn’t know what it was about Derek, but something about the werewolf called to him in a way he couldn’t explain. Derek was beautiful yes, but it wasn’t that. Stiles had felt weirdly safe with him, without even knowing him. Stiles had trusted him. And Stiles didn’t trust anyone. Thinking over his options Stiles came to a conclusion. He couldn’t be with Derek as a human, which only left one other option, something he had secretly been wanting for some time. Stiles would have to become a werewolf. 


	4. Your New Boyfriend

“What’s got you all scowly this morning Der-Bear?”

Laura chucked red grapes at Derek’s head where he sat at the table drinking his black coffee and scowling into his newspaper. He ignored the grapes making contact with his head, allowing them to bounce off him and roll onto the floor, his scowl deepening.   
Talia Hale rounded the corner into the kitchen and surveyed the scene with a raised eyebrow. She moved to pour herself a cup of coffee and lean against the kitchen sink. Laura made to throw another grape at Derek but was stopped by a glare from their mother. 

“Derek, Sweetheart, why is it that you’re growling into your eggs as if they’ve personally wronged you? I know for a fact that your father would be very offended if I told him his eggs were bad enough to put you in such a mood.”

Derek looked up sheepishly from his breakfast and met his mother’s gaze. 

“It’s nothing.”

His mother raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Laura slid off the counter and fell into the chair opposite him, picking a grape off the table and popping it into her mouth. Derek sneered at her and she pulled a face back at him. 

“I’m glad to see that my adult children are so mature and well behaved.” 

Derek and his sister immediately dropped the faces they’d pulled and turned to their mother.

“Sorry Mom” they said in unison.

Talia rolled her eyes fondly and gracefully sat down in the chair beside Derek. She laid her hand gently in between his shoulder blades and looked him in the eye.

“Why are you so sour this morning Pup? And don’t say it’s nothing, because you have been in a snit since you got back from patrol last night.”

Derek sighed and looked down into his coffee. Laura poked her cold toes into his shins and he growled slightly. She laughed at him and it caused Derek’s eyebrows to draw tighter together. 

“Did you kill Bambi Der? Is that what this is? Guilt about tearing apart a fluffy woodland creature?” Laura asked, grabbing the toast off his plate and making a face when she tasted the blackberry jam. “Gross. How can you eat this stuff?”

Derek looked up at her and smirked. 

“That’s what happens when you eat people’s food Laura.” He took an annoyed breath and pulled his plate back towards him. “And I didn’t kill Bambi.” 

Laura pulled her face into an exaggerated pout and tilted her head at him.

“Is somebody tired? Aw poor baby! Do you need a nap sweetie?”

Derek flashed some fang at his sister and let his eyes bleed blue. His mother smacked the back of his head.

“No fangs at the table, you know the rules.”

Derek immediately shifted back to human form and let his shoulders droop as he turned to smile at his mother apologetically. Laura poked his shins even harder with her toes, this time allowing her claws to come out and prod sharply against Derek’s shinbone. 

“Come on Derek,” she whined. “Tell meee”

Derek rolled his eyes and picked up his coffee, sipping at it and avoiding his sister’s eyes. She leaned over the table and looked at him closely, trying to distinguish which of his frowns this one was. As she leaned over the table she breathed in and her eyes went wide when she caught a scent she wasn’t expecting. She leaned back, excitement on her face. 

“Does wittle Der-Bear have a girlfriend?”

Derek snorted into his coffee and placed his mug onto the table. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Laura listened closely to Derek’s heartbeat and not hearing a lie she huffed in frustration. Talia looked on in amusement, watching her eldest daughter struggle to piece together the puzzle. Laura’s eyebrows drew together as she tried to make sense of what she had smelled and what her brother had said. Derek avoided her gaze and proceeded to spread more blackberry jam on his toast and take an aggressive bite of it. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Derek choked on his toast. Talia reached over and patted him on the back. Laura burst into pleased laughter. 

“Oh my god! You do! You have a boyfriend!” she laughed, pumping her fist in victory. “Cora totally owes me 10 bucks.”

Derek, finally having dislodged the toast from his windpipe leveled a glare on his sister. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend. And stop making bets with Cora about my sexuality.”

Laura laughed loudly. 

“Never!” 

Talia rolled her eyes and moved to pick up the dishes on the table and bring them to the sink where they could be washed. 

“Laura stop antagonizing your brother.”

Laura made her eyes wide and she looked at her mother, a picture of innocence as she fluttered her eyelashes. 

“Antagonizing my sweet little brother? Mother I would never!”

Talia laughed. 

“Oh of course not Laura, how could I have been so silly to think such a horrendous thing of you?”

Laura smiled at her mother and then turned back to Derek who was trying to sneak out of the kitchen. 

“Where do you think you’re going? We are not even close to done talking about your new boyfriend.”

Derek groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. Talia laughed lightly and swept out of the kitchen, dropping a kiss onto Derek’s cheek on her way out. He sighed and turned away from the kitchen door and leaned against the counter. 

“Who did I kill in my past lives to deserve you as a sister?”

Laura got up from the table and poured herself a cup of coffee before hopping up on the counter beside Derek and crossing her legs. 

“So what’s he look like? Not tall and blonde with curly hair and an angelic face I hope.”

Derek turned and looked at her with confusion.

“Do you have a secret thing for Isaac I should be worried about?”

Laura scoffed. 

“Please, I’m practically old enough to be his mother.”

Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Laura you’re twenty-six.”

Laura punched him in the arm. 

“And he’s eighteen,” she deadpanned. “I might as well have birthed him myself.”

Derek looked at her, eyebrow raised. She sighed and looked out the window. 

“I don’t have a thing for him but Cora does, and as much as I’d like to see her kick your butt for stealing her man, I also don’t want that unnecessary drama in the pack.”

Derek scowled, mentally filing the information about Cora and Isaac away for later, planning on putting the fear of God into Isaac. No one messed with his little sister. 

“I’m not dating Isaac.”

Laura bumped her shoulder against his. 

“All I’m hearing from you is ‘I don’t have a boyfriend’ and ‘I’m not dating Isaac’ and I would really like for you to be a little more forthcoming with information here baby bro.”

Derek growled at the nickname, but his shoulders drooped as he admitted defeat. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend…”

Laura rolled her eyes. 

“So you said.”

Derek shot a glare at her, flashing his blue eyes. 

“I wasn’t done,” he said, speaking through his fangs.

Laura laughed loudly, gesturing for him to proceed. He brought his shift back under control and took a deep breath.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, but I did kind of meet someone last night.”

Laura let a soft smile creep onto her face. She leaned gently against her brother’s side, waiting for him to continue.

“Laur, I met my Mate last night.” He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “Like my capital M, mate - the real deal.” 

Laura dropped her head against Derek’s shoulder, rubbing her face against him lightly. 

“Why do you say it like it’s a death sentence Der?”

Derek let out a shaky breath and let his head fall on top of his sister’s, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer against his side. 

“He’s a human, Laura.”

Laura gasped and wrapped both of her arms around Derek’s waist.

“Oh Der, baby, what did you do? You didn’t hurt him did you?”

Derek drew in a sharp breath.

“No! No. Of course not. I couldn’t - I wouldn’t…”

Laura moved her hand so it sat between his shoulder blades, right above his tattoo. She rubbed small circles into his skin until he could get his breathing under control. 

“I know Der, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that I thought you would, you just seemed so upset…So what happened?”

Derek let out a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut against the memory.

“I did what I had to. I basically chased him off our land.”

Laura let out a soft sound of reassurance. 

“I’m sorry honey.”

Derek buried his face in his sister’s hair and breathed in deeply, letting the smell of family and pack soothe him. 

“Why me?”

Laura tightened her arms around him. 

“Why you, what?”

Derek sighed.

“Why me, everything. Why do I have to be the next alpha? Why did I have to meet my Mate? Why did he have to be human?”

Laura smiled slightly and squeezed her brother tighter.

“I dunno Derek, but I have a feeling that somehow this is all going to work out.”

Derek frowned and let out a soft whine. 

“How?”

Laura laughed and untangled herself from her brother. 

“I don’t know how yet, somehow it will, but it’s damn well not going to be easy. Now, get up because we are going to go run through the woods until you stop pouting. Then we’re going to come back and take the pups to the park so mom can have a break.”

Laura sprinted out of the kitchen and into the backyard, disappearing into the forest. Derek sighed and pushed himself off the counter, following his sister into the tree line at a more sedate pace, wondering how on earth his sister thought this could possibly work out.


	5. Three-One-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: I know less than zero about police scanners but I looked up stuff on google for like 5 minutes so just suspend your disbelief ok? cool.

“What did you do?”

 

John Stilinski narrowed his eyes at his son over the dinner table and watched as Stiles twitched his fork around and looked anywhere but his father’s eyes.

 

“Psh what? What makes you think I did anything? I didn’t do anything. No siree nothing happening with Stiles. Nada.”

 

John looked at his plate with suspicion and then glanced back up to his son.

 

“Then why am I eating a steak?”

 

Stiles spluttered and flailed his arms dramatically.

 

“What? A guy can’t make his own father a nice meal every now and again just to show how much he appreciates him?”

 

John cut into his steak, forking a piece into his mouth and chewing slowly. He swallowed the piece of meat and leveled a stare on his son.

 

“Stiles you haven’t let me eat red meat in eight months.”

 

Stiles laughed nervously.

 

“Eight months? Has it been eight months? Are you sure you’re not over exaggerating? I let you eat steak all the time! Like that time on your birthday…Which was in March, which was eight months ago. Oh, heh, yeah I guess it has been a while.”

 

The sheriff narrowed his eyes at Stiles and cut another piece of steak aggressively.

 

“Which leads me back to my original question. What did you do?”

 

Stiles took a long drink of water out of his glass and cleared his throat, still not looking the sheriff in the eye.

 

“Nothing?”

 

John laughed and gestured at Stiles with his fork.

 

“Why was that a question?”

 

Stiles shrugged and turned his attention to his plate, pushing his vegetables around on his plate.

 

“I just wanted to know some stuff for a school report I’m writing.”

 

The sheriff cleared his throat and watched his son fidget with the Brussel sprouts, rolling them around with his fork.

 

“A school report.”

 

Stiles sighed loudly and shrugged his shoulders, briefly glancing at his father.

 

“Yeah about that pack that was taken out by the government last year and… uh also about their emissary who survived.”

 

John narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest.

 

“You’re writing a report about the government’s termination of Greyback’s pack?”

 

Stiles cleared his throat and pushed his plate away, finally looking at his father.

 

“Yeah, it’s for my politics class. They gave us a list of incidents to choose from, and they want us to research the topic and then write an editorial about our opinions for our term paper. The one about Greyback’s pack is supposed to be about whether or not the American government had a right to kill the pack considering that most of the werewolves weren’t even Americans, and also whether or not they were right to do it considering the huge amount of trouble it caused and all the international policy that had to be put in place.”

 

The sheriff leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed over his chest. His eyebrows drew together and he studied his son carefully.

 

“And what is it exactly that you want to know?”

 

Stiles glanced down at his hands, they twisted and tapped at the table and he drew his brows together as he focused on staying still.

 

“I’ve already found a lot of information on the internet but there’s a lot of conflicting information and I was uh… hoping I could maybe take a look at the case file so I would know what was accurate and what wasn’t?”

 

The sheriff laughed and raised an eyebrow.

 

“You want me to give you a highly confidential police file so that you can write a school paper?”

 

Stiles drew his eyebrows together and looked up at his dad through his eyelashes, channeling his best Scott McCall inspired puppy dog eyes.

 

“I won’t use any of the confidential information I swear, I just want to fact check. I only need the files for like half an hour. I’ll even read them at the table so you know I haven’t copied them or anything.”

 

John Stilinski uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, settling his elbows on the table and focusing intently on his son, who was now looking at him hopefully. They sat there in silence for a few moments, John carefully considering his son, and weighing his options.

 

“You can have the file for _twenty minutes_.  You will sit at this table _with me_. No electronic devices and no writing down any new information. You can check it with your notes but I only want to see you crossing off things and maybe correcting numbers or spelling. Any confidential information that gets out is _on you_. If any of this information gets out I will tell everyone that you stole the files out of my desk and you will deal with the consequences.”

 

Stiles beamed and jumped up to start clearing the table.

 

“Awesome! ... I mean yes sir. Of course. Serious matter. You can totally trust me.”

 

John sighed and shook his head, watching his son dart about the kitchen, cleaning up as he went.

 

“Stiles, tell me I’m not going to regret this.”

 

Stiles looked at his father from where he stood elbow deep in dishwater.

 

“You’re not going to regret this.”

 

The sheriff rolled his eyes.

 

“Why don’t I believe you?” he mumbled, looking over to where his son was humming and washing dishes. “I have such a terrible feeling about this.”

 

Forty minutes later, the sheriff tossed a brown stack of folders tied together with string onto the table, startling Stiles out of his Calculus homework. Stiles furrowed his brow at the stack for a moment until he realized what was in the folders. He beamed up at his dad and rummaged through his notebook for his politics notes. John turned the kettle on and leaned against the counter, watching his son pick at the knot holding the stack of folders and papers together.

 

“Twenty minutes.”

 

Stiles nodded distractedly, already tearing the string off the folders and opening the one on top, quickly scanning for information. The sheriff shook his head fondly and moved around the kitchen preparing two cups of tea. He had barely placed the mugs of tea on the table when his radio crackled to life on the counter where he had left it. He sighed.

 

“Damn thing, never a minute to myself.”

 

The sheriff turned towards the radio, walking over to grab it from the counter.

 

“We’ve got a report of a probable three-one-one occurring at the park down by the river. Unit Bravo-One what’s your location?”

 

Stiles looked up from the files, laughing.

 

“Public indecency?”

 

The sheriff looked frustrated, shaking his head.

 

“Probably some drunk kid streaking again. I don’t know why, but it seems to have come back in style recently.”

 

The sheriff grabbed the radio and responded.

 

“Sheriff Stilinski here, the three-one-one, who called it in?”

 

There is a pause on the other side of the line.

 

“Elderly lady on Elm St.” there is the sound of someone taking a deep breath and hesitating. “Sheriff, you might want to go check this one out if you’re not busy. Possible ID on the suspect is Melissa’s kid.”

 

The sheriff hit the antenna of the radio into his forehead repeatedly, his face the picture of frustration. He turned to Stiles who was studiously comparing his notes to the file.

 

“Alright kid, am I about to drive down to the park and see a naked Scott McCall running around?”

 

Stiles smirked a little at the thought before giving a whole body shiver.  He met his dad’s eyes with an innocent look.

 

“I don’t know, I heard he was going to some party tonight.”

 

The sheriff sighed, before replying to the dispatcher.

 

“10-4 Andrea, I’m on my way. Bravo-One you can stand down, I can handle this one.”

 

There is an affirmative reply from the scanner and the sheriff starts putting on his boots and then shrugs his coat on.

 

“Hang tight kid, I’ll be right back.”

 

He heads out the door, forgetting about the file on the table with Stiles. Stiles listens for the sound of the cruiser starting up and pulling away before he smirks and pulls out his cell phone to start taking pictures.

 

“Attaboy Scotty.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and yes Greyback was Fenrir Greyback from Harry Potter... I couldn't resist.


	6. Derek's Plan

“Derek are you even paying attention?”

 

Derek lifted his head and looked at his mother sheepishly.

 

“Uh yes?”

 

Talia shook her head and glared halfheartedly at her son, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

 

“What were your uncle and I just discussing?”

 

Derek looked across the room to where Peter was leaning against the windowsill. Peter smirked and him and raised one eyebrow in challenge. Derek sighed and turned back to his mother seated at her desk.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Talia sighed and shuffled the papers on her desk into a neat pile, arranging them in a particular way before looking up at Derek. She motioned for Derek to come around the desk, moving out of her chair and holding it out to him in invitation. He looked at her warily before sitting down. She moved to where he was sitting, on the visitor’s side of the Alpha’s desk and sat down, crossing her ankles and leaning back to look at Derek. He squirmed under her stare and dropped his eyes, unable to meet the Alpha’s gaze. She tapped her claw on the wooden arm of the chair, making a sharp clicking sound when nail made contact with wood.

 

“Derek I need to you tell me why I’m upset with you.”

 

Derek sighed and slumped forwards onto the desk, pillowing his chin on his crossed arms. His mother flashed her red eyes at him and he rolled his eyes and sat back up, twisting back and forth in his chair.

 

“Because we’re discussing pack policy and making plans about Deucalion and I’m distracted.”

 

His mother raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to continue. He shrugged his shoulders and looked out the window, still using his feet to twist the chair back and forth.

 

“You’re disappointed because as of the spring we’re going to be running the pack together until I’m ready for it to be mine, and you want me to show some interest in pack affairs.”

 

Talia nodded and examined her claws, feigning nonchalance.

 

“So what do you propose we do about Deucalion and his pack of rogues?”

 

Derek gaped, eyes going wide as he looked to Peter to gauge how serious his mother was being. Peter just shrugged.

 

“What do I think?”

 

Talia leaned back, uncrossing her ankles and crossing the opposite knee on top. She clasped her hands demurely over her knee, and raised a brow.

 

“Well obviously you think that whatever we were discussing was of little importance, since you were so rudely not paying attention. So Derek, why don’t you share what you think we should do.”

 

Derek blushed and dropped his gaze to his hands where they had grabbed onto his shirt hem and were currently twisting. He hastily let go and smoothed the shirt down, clearing his throat.

 

“Alpha, I’m sorry.”

 

His mother scoffed and waved a hand at him.

 

“I didn’t ask for apologies pup, I asked for a plan.”

 

Derek looked at the papers stacked on the desk, noticing for the first time that they were all related to Deucalion and his pack. There were bank statements, security camera footage, car rental receipts, printouts of information from their GPS devices, and maps with areas highlighted based on what Derek guessed was the frequency each area was visited. He narrowed his eyes at the pile and started shifting the papers around, ignoring the annoyed huff his mother let out. He spread the map out and looked at it, tracing the highlighted paths with a finger and furrowing his brows.  He tilted his head and started to rifle through the other papers on his desk, scanning the numbers.

 

“There’s a path here that doesn’t make any sense.”

 

Talia tilted her head and hummed at her son to continue. He picked the map up and tilted it back and forth a few times before turning it around so it faced away from him. He then traced the path another time and circled a few buildings with a thick black marker.

 

“Well obviously the routes they use most frequently show up on the map in green, and most of them make a lot of sense.” Derek pointed to a place where all the paths converged around an apartment complex. “This is obviously their base. All of the paths meet here and all of the bank statements suggest that this is where they’ve decided to stay.” He traced one of the paths. “This one makes sense too, it leads downtown, stops outside of the bank and the grocery store.” He moves his finger back to the apartment complex, starting on a new path. “This one leads to the edge of the preserve, and we know they’ve been roaming on our lands, so this one makes sense.” Talia nodded and Peter moved away from his place against the windows, instead taking a few steps closer to the desk and leaning his hip against it, looking intently at the map. Derek looked up at him and nodded before continuing. “And this one leads around what basically amounts to the perimeter of the town. But this one…” Derek traced the path with his finger, following the marked line into an abandoned area of town.

 

“Doesn’t lead anywhere logical” Peter finished for Derek, nodding thoughtfully. Derek smiled up at his uncle.

 

“Which probably means it leads somewhere important.”

 

Peter laughed in agreement with his nephew and clapped him on the shoulder. Talia narrowed her eyes at the empty stretch of parking lot surrounded by warehouses.

 

“They could be using any of these buildings.” She huffed her annoyance. Derek turned to his mother.

 

“Step one of my plan is finding out what they’re doing here in town. We can safely assume that part of why they’re here is our territory, but it can’t be all of it because they would have done something by now if it was.” He took a deep breath and looked at his uncle. “So step one requires some possibly less than legal digging into town resources about the buildings in this area.” He drew a line around the cluster of abandoned buildings. “We need to find out who owns them and what they were being used for before. Can you do that?”

 

Peter laughed and examined his claws.

 

“Of course I can. The question is ‘will I?’ You’re not the Alpha yet pup, we still go by your mother’s commands not yours.”

 

Talia rolled her eyes and looked at her brother.

 

“Look into the buildings.”

 

He smirked at her and bowed his head in mock deference.

 

“Of course Alpha.”

 

Talia looked at Derek calculatingly.

 

“Anything else?’

Derek hesitated, not wanting to give direct orders to his mother. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and pressed on.

 

“Maintain surveillance, keep running patrols on the preserve, do some digging on the Alphas in the pack.”

 

Talia tilted her head.

 

“But not attack? Our territory is threatened, should we not defend it?”

 

Derek scrunched his eyebrows together and looked at the piles of papers on the desk and back up to his mother. He levelled a challenging gaze on her.

 

“No. Not without more information. It’s too dangerous.”

 

Talia rose from her chair and nodded once in approval.

 

“You might still make a decent Alpha yet. You have good instincts.”

 

Derek smiled a tiny smile and moved to rearrange the papers on the desk back into some semblance of order. Talia and Peter moved out of the room silently, leaving Derek to his thoughts. He leaned back in the chair and allowed his thoughts to drift back to the boy from the woods and his delicious smell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um sorry that things seem to be going slow and they literally haven't done much more than meet but that's kind of my M.O so give me a bit longer before you start gathering the lynch mob ok? I'm setting up plot and stuff so that things can be interesting later I promise.


	7. A Witch's Wager

“Stiles, remember last week when we were wandering in the woods in the middle of the night and I told you that it was the worst idea you’ve ever had? I take it back. This is definitely the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Stiles grinned at his best friend and shrugged, looking down and his phone and back up at the warehouse they stood in front of. He squinted at the phone and then looked at the next three photos, carefully comparing them against the building in front of them.

 

“Well, this seems like the place.”

 

Scott sighed and shook his head.

 

“You mean the place where a whole pack of werewolves were killed and their human emissary was tortured for information and then left for dead? That’s the place it seems like?”

 

Stiles frowns.

 

“Well when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”

 

Scott looks at his best friend with wide eyes.

 

“What way could you possibly spin that to make it sound anything less than bad?”

 

Stiles shrugged and pocketed his phone. He reached into the back of his waistband and pulled out a handgun, testing the weight of it in his hand and turning the safety off and on a few times.

 

“Is that a gun? Oh my god why do you have a gun?”

 

Scott flailed his arms and backed a few steps away from Stiles, who just leveled a serious look at him and raised a brow.

 

“Do you seriously think I would go into this completely unarmed Scott? I may take stupid risks but I’m not suicidal.”

 

Scott looked at the gun, crinkling his nose for a minute.

 

“Are those wolfsbane bullets? Where did you get wolfsbane bullets?”

Stiles quirked one of his eyebrows and rolled  his eyes fondly at his best friend.

 

“My dad’s the sheriff Scott. I borrowed them from his safe.”

 

Scott groaned.

 

“You stole your dad’s gun?”

 

Stiles shook his head, tucking the gun back into his waistband.

 

“I _borrowed_ his back-up gun. He won’t even notice that it’s gone. And really was it better if I had just owned this gun? That's really better than borrowing it?”

 

Scott looked up at the sky and blew out a long breath.

 

“Fine. Ok. Whatever. You go in and look around for clues or whatever it is you’re looking for and I’ll stand guard. You have twenty minutes and then I’m calling your dad. And _be careful_.”

 

Stiles nodded and slunk closer to the doorway, examining the chains. He pushed on the door and the chains rattled. He traced the chains to the lock, noticing that the lock wasn’t closed. He laughed in triumph and Scott looked pained.

 

“Here goes!”

 

Stiles hesitated for a few breaths before pushing the door open and stepping inside. The space was cavernous and dusty, the wet smell of mold stirred with the breeze from the open door. He closed it with a sharp clang, pulling the gun out and steadying it in front of him with both hands. Light streamed from a hole in the ceiling, showing off the silvery dust that his every step released. He took a deep breath and tried to still the shaking in his hands, moving through the half-darkness.

The building was mostly empty. Chains hung from the ceiling and there were towering stacks of crates in the far corner, but the space was empty enough that the sound of his footsteps on the concrete echoed back at him. He picked his way along the wall, trying to keep his back protected so that nothing could sneak up on him. The walls were bare and smooth, except for two orange doors, one closed and bolted shut and one sitting half ajar. The floor in front of it was covered in dark smudges, trails leading from beyond the orange door to the center of the warehouse where the staining was the most concentrated. Blood, Stiles realized. They hadn’t done a very thorough job of cleaning out the evidence. But then again why would they have? They were the government and they had been very forthcoming about what had happened here. It wasn’t like they were trying to hide anything. As much as the bloodstains made him wary, they also made him hopeful that perhaps if there was this little attention paid to clean up, some valuable hints could be found about the whereabouts of the emissary, if she was still alive.

            He edged towards the orange door, pausing for a moment when he heard a shuffling sound on the other side. Part of him hoped it was just a raccoon. He took a deep breath and kicked his way through the door, gun held in front of him like a shield. Before he could blink he was pinned against the wall by an invisible force and his gun was clattering to the ground. Something shifted in the shadows and Stiles gulps, suddenly regretting every choice that has led him to this moment. The shape moved forward, jerkily, as if with a limp. The only light in the room streamed in through the open door and it was barely enough for Stiles to see a few feet in front of him. He squinted into the darkness and heard a chilling laugh in return. He froze and squeezed his eyes closed. He had always figured that he die because of his idiotic plans but he hadn’t thought it would be until much, much later.

 

“Stilinksi”

 

The voice cut through the darkness as a hiss, and Stiles realized that his plan ended up working too well. He had come to the warehouse looking for clues about the emissary, but instead he managed to stumble right into her lair. Just his luck.

 

“Jennifer, Hello. How are you?”

 

The emissary slunk out of the shadow and lingered on the edge of the light pooling on the floor. The bottom of her robes, filthy and caked with blood was all Stiles could make out clearly, but he thought that he had managed to catch flashes of light from her eyes.

 

“You know who I am.”

 

Stiles laughed and squirmed against the invisible force holding him in place.

 

“Yeah, I actually came here to find you. Wanted to … uh, talk.”

 

She stepped forward a half step and Stiles was finally able to get a proper look at her. Her face was still obscured by the hood she had drawn tight around her face but her hands poked out of the bottom of her robes. They were thin but gnarled, twisted into grotesque shapes as if they had been broken and never set properly. The hands were covered in thick ropey scars, crisscrossing over every inch of exposed skin. Stiles fought back a flinch. Looking away from her, he struggled to reign in his breath.

 

“Do you know what happened the last time someone ‘wanted to talk’?”

 

Stiles grimaced, suddenly realizing the implication of what he had said.

 

“No, I mean obviously not like that. I don’t want to hurt you. No hurting. I’m a pacifist actually. Stiles doesn’t hurt anyone. Nobody at all.”

 

She growled at him and kicked his gun across the floor so it hit his feet. He laughed nervously.

 

“You know what, I see where you maybe got the wrong idea from. That was mostly just a prop to make me less of an easy target in case I encountered some hostile squatters or something. I’ve never actually fired a gun. Well I have, but not like at a person or anything. Just cans. I am a pacifist with the exception of cans. Which you are not. A can. You’re not a can. So you have nothing to worry about really.”

 

The constriction of the invisible force tightened for a moment and Stiles let out a very unmanly squeak.

  
“No, yeah, point taken. Not a fan of the babbling.”

 

She drifted back into the shadows and Stiles could hear her shuffling around and moving things around.

 

“So do you want to know why I’m here?”

 

She laughed.

 

“I know why you’re here.”

 

Stiles screwed his face up in confusion.

 

“You do?”

 

She stalked close to him, pushing into his personal space. She leaned close and dragged in a deep breath.

 

“You practically reek of desperation and werewolves. It’s not hard to put together the pieces.”

 

Stiles blushed and tried to get his face as far away as possible from the woman. He tried not to gag on the smell of rotting flesh and death that clung to her, digging his nails into the palm of his hands, and hoped that the stinging bite would ground him.

 

“Ok so you know why I’m here. I guess that cuts step two out of the equation, and we can move right along to step three which is, can you help me?”

 

She snorted and moved away from him slightly, letting the spell holding him against the wall break. Stiles slumped to the floor and let his back rest up against the wall where he was now seated.

 

“Of course I can help you.”

 

Stiles brightened and looked up at her, trying to avoid her robes by bringing his knees into his chest.

 

“You can?”

 

She clapped and suddenly the room was lit by glowing orbs in each of the corners. Stiles flinched and closed his eyes at the sudden brightness. He slowly opened them and looked around at the room. It was sparse, a few crates set up as furniture, a bundle of cloth in one corner. A few of the crates seemed to be set up like a shelf, with little glass bottles stacked on top. The orbs bobbed slightly in the air, drawing Stiles’ eyes to a metallic glint of a tray of what looked like torture implements. He shivered and looked at the woman in the filthy cloak. She was smaller than he was expecting, but she was still terrifying and somehow radiated power.

 

“I can give you what you want.”

 

Stiles pushed himself off the floor dusting off the seat of his pants and stretching. He righted all of his clothes, tugging his shirts back into place.

 

“Alright I’m sensing a but. There’s a but isn’t there. Always with the buts. You can help me but…?”

 

She pushed her hood off of her head and he choked down a gasp at his first sight of her mangled face. There wasn’t an inch of her face that wasn’t covered in thick jagged scars, face bleached white, missing lips and eye lids and hair. Just a gaping hole where a mouth should be, shattered stumps of teeth still hanging from her gums. Her eyes were too blue, nearly the colour of blindness, but too clear to be mistaken for it.  Stiles felt a chill run through him. She was truly terrifying. She stood before him, shorter than him by nearly a head, and stared with her unblinking face, gaze not wavering.

 

“My help comes with a price young spark.”

 

Stiles scrunched his nose in confusion, eyebrows drawing down and together. He tilted his head.

 

“Is this where you tell me I have to sell my soul for a three day bender with a hot prince and then give me legs and take away my voice?”

 

She laughed, cackled really, and the eerie light of the floating orbs glinted off the slickness of her gums and the stumps of teeth. Stiles flinched back and she looked at him again, her hands reaching for him.

 

“I suppose yes, in a way. I’ve always been a fan of a good wager, what about you?”

 

Stiles hesitated, toeing the gun on the floor by his feet but making no real move to pick it up.

 

“I think it depends on the bet. I make bets with Scott all the time but that’s only because he never wins, he’s not really the smartest and I don’t think he really knows how odds work…”

 

She waved her hand in front of his face and his words stuck in his throat. He glared at her and rolled his eyes. He mouthed “really?” at her and she twisted one corner of her mouth up into a parody of a smirk.

 

“I don’t want your voice. You talk far too much, what I want is your silence for a moment.”

 

She pauses and watches the emotions play on Stiles’ face before he nods carefully.

 

“You are quite powerful did you know that?”

 

Stiles twisted his face into an expression of incredulousness.

 

“You are untrained and your power is raw, but it’s there.”

 

Stiles looks at her blankly and then nods slowly once.

 

“If you win you stay a werewolf, you keep the beast you’re pining after, and you keep your pack and your powers. If you lose you get nothing. I strip you of all of your powers and they become mine. Of course, you can’t discuss a word of our agreement with anyone, but that just comes with the territory. What do you say? Are the prizes worth the risk?”

 

Stiles considered her for a moment before tilting his head back and forth and motioning for her to continue. The gaping hole that was her mouth stretched into a wide grin.

 

“Clever boy, always asking questions. You get until the next lunar eclipse. Three months.”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her and motions at his mouth. She sighs and makes an aborted wave in his general direction. He coughs violently and takes in a large gasp of air.

 

“You’ve mentioned time and you’ve mentioned winnings but you haven’t mentioned terms. Let me guess. I need true loves kiss before the sunset on the last day.”

 

She spins away from him and moves towards the collection of glass bottles, running gnarled fingers over each bottle, considering them.

 

“No, it’s not true loves kiss, not anymore. That’s too easy in this day and age. I was thinking more along the lines of you have to get him to declare you as his mate, complete the courting rituals too.”

 

Stiles crossed his arms and looked over at her, watching her every movement incredibly carefully through narrowed eyes.

 

“So if by the lunar eclipse I can convince this guy to werewolf marry me I get to stay a werewolf forever, but if I fail you get all my powers? That’s it?”

 

She turned to Stiles, eyes shining with mischief.

 

“Does seem a bit too simple doesn’t it?”

 

Stiles put his hands into his jeans pocket and rocked back and forth on his heels.

 

“It’s not that it’s simple necessarily, it’s just that I’ve never heard of a witch that makes plans with so few conditions. What aren’t you saying?”

 

She looked at the bottles for a moment, considering.

 

“There are two conditions I haven’t mentioned yet. Both make your task a little more difficult, because as it is 3 months to convince a werewolf to court you is child’s play. Especially if you’ve already met.”

 

Stiles hummed in agreement, waiting for her to continue, trying not to lead her away from her point.

 

“So to start, all memories of you will be erased from the minds of the Hale pack. If you’ve ever been spoken of every specific trait of yours will be a blank in their memory.”

 

Stiles waved his hand around in front of him.

 

“I met the guy once, it’s hardly the end of the world if he doesn’t remember that, what’s the last part?”

 

She smiled at him, tilting her head down so that the shadows filled the cavernous indents around her eyes and mouth until she looked like a grinning skull.

 

“The last part is the part where I take your voice, little mermaid.”

 

Stiles looked at her with confusion.

 

“I thought you didn’t want my voice.”

 

Her hands wound together and her mouth stretched impossibly wider.

 

“No, you’re right. It’s not your voice. It’s your scent.”

 

Stiles tilted his head and looked at her for a long moment.

 

“You want to take my scent?”

 

She nodded, a slight bob of her bone white skull.

 

“I can’t erase Derek’s instinctual memory, he would remember your smell if he encountered again. These are my terms.”

 

Stiles paced back and forth in front of her, wringing his hands and looking up at her every few loops past her. He weighed his options carefully. As far as witch’s deals, this one didn’t seem so bad. It’s not like his soul was on the board here, just his magic that he didn’t use. And really how much could there _be_? It seemed like a safe deal but he knew there was something he was missing. These deals never went down without a hitch. But this was his only _chance_. And really, if anyone was going to do something like this it was totally him. He stopped in his tracks and looked at her, squaring his shoulders and nodding once.

 

“Yes. I accept your wager.”

 

She cackled once, darting a hand out to grasp tightly to his wrist. She smiled, if it could be called that, and then blew a handful of dust out of her other hand into his face. She started wildly laughing and then the skin on his face started to burn. His skin felt like it was bubbling and peeling off and Stiles brought up his hands to literally claw at his face, and oh, that’s new. His skull exploded with pain as fangs forced their way out of his mouth and without knowing it a grumbling roar tore out of his mouth, ending in a pained howl. He fell to his knees, spitting blood as he felt skin knitting itself back together over his face and fangs retreating.

When he could open his eyes through the pain he looked around only to find that the emissary was nowhere to be found. He was in a room, fully empty, not a box or a cobweb in sight. The only sign that she had been there at all was a small amulet lying on the floor surrounded by silvery dust. He picked it up and handled it and it felt warm against his skin. He wound it around his neck and tucked it into his shirt just as Scott burst in breathless. Scott’s eyes flared red for a second and then settled as he looked at Stiles on the floor surrounded by his own blood. He sighed heavily and offered his friend a hand up.

 

“It worked then?”

 

Stiles nodded slightly, still flexing his hands to dispel the ache the claws had left behind.

 

“Yeah, it worked.”


	8. A Romp in the Woods

Derek liked the forest air because it never failed to clear his head. It helped to run, getting lost in the rhythmic sounds of his feet pounding against the hard dirt. His favourite time to run was right after the sun went down, the woods dark and inviting, drawing him out of his own head with the focus it required to see in the dark.

Tonight he ran to quiet his worries about the Alpha pack. It made him incredibly wary, the way they had showed up in town, ignoring the protocol of a visiting pack. But what made it worse was their inactivity since they’d arrived. They had come onto Hale lands a few times to poke around but no formal challenges had been issued. It wasn’t like a werewolf to wait unless they had a plan, especially not a pack of Alphas. Derek knew that he and his mother were missing something big but he didn’t know what.

So he just ran harder, waiting a half second longer before he dodged trees and rocks. He ran recklessly, desperately trying to clear his head and escape the thoughts that had been plaguing him all day. On the edge of these thoughts there was a haunting smell that he could barely recall, just drifting there, a constant presence. The warm, spicy scent filled him with longing and a sense of safety. The more he thought about it the less he could remember, so he just gave up, letting it drift in and out of his consciousness. He hauled air into his lungs and desperately hoped the running would help him work out the twisted puzzle that was his memories of the last few days. It wasn’t often that his head felt muddled and heavy, usually only when he was poisoned or bleeding out. It felt unnatural and stifling and it made his skin crawl.

 The usually bustling woods quieted as he ran through, animals sensing the apex predator in their presence and being smart enough to hide. It didn’t matter much, he wasn’t big on hunting, even on the moons, preferring to chase but never kill. Waking up the morning after the moon with hands crusted in dried blood always made him queasy. Blood, even his own, on his hands had made him sick since he had taken his first life. Derek had never really gotten over killing Peter’s first mate Paige, despite all the therapy his mother had made him undergo. He still woke up screaming in the night remembering the feeling of her bones giving way under his hands. But the look on Peter’s face had been so dead, he had been practically comatose, paralyzed by fear and grief and Paige had been in such pain and Derek couldn’t stand by in the face of such _suffering_. Luckily Peter had found his Mate, his true one, a few years later otherwise the memories of Paige might have been enough to drive him feral and out of the pack. Derek wasn’t so lucky. He was still haunted by memories of the unsuccessful turning and the idea of biting a human made his stomach twist into knots and his spine seize up.

Derek pushed harder, and forced himself to fall into the rhythm of his run, letting the burning in his lungs fuel his forward motion. He ran until his legs ached and then kept running. After some time he stopped being able to feel his legs and he let the wind whip past him. He felt like he was flying and that made him smile. He stopped running when the moon was at its peak. It wasn’t full but he could feel it pulling at his skin and he let the shift take over, sliding into his primal instincts effortlessly. His legs felt weak and he knew he had pushed too far, too hard for even his werewolf healing to keep up with.

He let his instincts drive him, pulling him through the woods. He crossed through the archway created by two gnarled old oaks and sucked in a deep breath. This section of the woods was old, full of magic and empty of animal life. It felt safe in a way that no other parts of the woods did, like something was watching out for him. The magical presence he could feel was also intensely familiar to him but didn’t know why. He softly padded through the mossy underbrush and let his mind drift. The scent was practically assaulting him it was so strong, and it took Derek a few moments to realize that it was because the scent wasn’t just in his memories anymore. It was practically seeping from the rocky cavern just past the grove of pine trees on his left. He stepped forward, approaching the cave, heart beating wildly. He paused a moment before edging into the cave where the smell was stronger. It drifted around him, especially strong where it clung to the stone. Derek let it wash over him, feeling calmer than he had in months, the Alpha pack suddenly seeming unimportant. Derek heard a pitiful whining sound and realized with a start that it was coming from him. He blushed slightly, embarrassed even though he was alone and indulged his wolf instincts, curling up against the wall and letting his eyes fall closed.

 

            Derek woke with the sun, letting the rays warm his face. He smiled at the feeling and then sat bolt upright in panic. He had slept completely unguarded in the woods. He flexed his fingers and found blunt nails in the place of claws and groaned out loud. He slept alone in the woods as a human. Even worse. The smell still hung in the air but it was weaker, infused with his scent. The result made his wolf rumble with happiness. He shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. He emerged from the small cave and headed down to the stream to wash his hands and face of the dirt that came along with sleeping rough. As he approached the stream he caught a different scent and it made him stop in his tracks.

            Where with the other scent it was hard to distinguish whether it was human or werewolf, this scent was distinctly werewolf. It was sharp and strong the way only an Alpha’s scent was. Derek growled out loud at the perceived threat before making the realization that this scent didn’t belong to one of the enemy Alphas. No, it was missing the sour notes and the smell was much less aggressive, edging more towards being gently pleasant. It smelled younger too. Like teenaged hormones and sweat mixed with green grass and lemon. It was a clean scent. Straightforward and honest.

 He approached a tree off to his left and found a scrap of cloth hanging from an outstretched branch and brought it close to his face. The scent clung to it but underneath that, faintly, was the scent from the cave. His wolf grumbled possessively at the mixing of _his_ spicy smell and the green one and he smelled the cloth again. The spicy warm smell was faint but incorporated in a way that suggested extended periods of time spent together, but not a mate bond. Too many pheromones in this scent to be bonded. This was an Alpha still trying to secure a mate. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, dropping the cloth. As it fell the scent drifted back up to Derek and something flashed in his memory. The green, citrusy smell. He recognized it. McCall. The only other Alpha in town who wasn’t out to get his family.

            An idea struck Derek. It wasn’t a particularly good idea, and he didn’t think that his mother would like it much, but it was something, something that the Alpha pack wouldn’t expect. And if it worked it would make them stronger against the threat. The part of him that was already panting to become an Alpha wanted to growl and snap at the idea of asking for help but more werewolves were more werewolves and right now, that’s exactly what they needed. It looked like he was going to have to contact McCall and set up a meeting. It was time to strike an alliance. 


	9. The McCall Pack

“Do we have to go?”

 

Scott whined and flung his arm over his face dramatically. Stiles laughed at him and poked at him with toes, alternating between claws and human nails. Scott growled slightly every time the sharp claws pricked into his side and Stiles laughed.

 

“Yes we have to go. The Hales have summoned you and you’re an Alpha in their territory which technically shouldn’t even be possible. Also Hot-Hottie-Derek will be there. I wonder what he smells like. You smell like Cheetos and dirty gym socks. I bet he smells sexy.”

 

Scott groaned and shoved Stiles’ clawed feet away from him with a glare.

 

“You have no focus. I was hoping the change would tone down that ADHD of yours but I guess we just have to accept that it’s just your personality and move on…. And what’s with your scary good control?”

 

Stiles smirked and rolled gracefully to his feet, flashing his gold eyes on and off at Scott to the tune of the music playing in a passing car. Scott couldn’t hold in a laugh at his best friend’s antics. Stiles picked up a pillow and launched it at his friend’s stomach.

 

“You’re just jealous that I went straight to awesome werewolf and you had to go through all the trouble of being a terrible one first.”

 

Scott glared and flung the pillow at Stiles’ face.

 

“Yeah whatever. Text everyone and tell them we’ll pick them up on the way.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes and waved his phone tauntingly in his friends face, deliberately not moving to text anyone.  

 

“What you think you can boss me around now just because you’re the Alpha?”

 

Scott grinned and flashed his eyes, growling menacingly. Stiles let out an involuntary whine and tilted his head, glaring at his friend the entire time. Scott looked down at him with a smirk.

 

“That’s exactly what I think. Texts. Now. The Hales want us there in a half hour.”

 

Stiles started furiously typing, sending out details about the meeting to their little ragtag pack. They had met last night so Stiles could show off his new werewolf powers and other than being surprised and intensely curious, no one was all that upset. Well, nobody other than Jackson. Although, Stiles was pretty sure that Jackson was more upset about losing his official status as Scott’s second. The only reason Jackson held the position in the first place was because a lot of packs couldn’t understand a human as second in command, so Stiles had let Jackson stand in for him during official negotiations. They didn’t have official negotiations very often, because most packs didn’t trust them but the little power it afforded Jackson went to his head.

Stiles’ stomach rolled when he thought about the meeting. This was the first time he would be officially representing Scott. They didn’t deal much in politics, partially because they were so young and partially because they didn’t formally have any territory of their own, other than Scott’s house. They were technically squatters on Hale lands and people thought of them more of a fractured offshoot of the Hale pack, and preferred to deal with Talia rather than the inexperienced but well-meaning Scott McCall. When people found out about their lack of actual werewolves in the pack they became even less likely to want to discuss treaties and politics with the McCall pack. Most packs consisted of primarily werewolves, humans present only as emissaries, mates to be turned, and occasionally offspring of two turned wolves or a turned wolf and a bitten wolf. By comparison, their 3 humans, a banshee and only two werewolves was unusual and suspicious to the more traditional packs.

Their lack of status and actual werewolves meant that pack relations were complicated, even with the Hales who were generously letting them stay on their land. The Hale pack pretty well left them alone as long as they weren’t making trouble, so to be called in with no reason was strange. Stiles immediately thought to what had happened recently with his transition to Scott’s new Beta, but he dismissed this when he realized that they had no way of knowing about what had happened. At times like these he was incredibly glad that the Hale pack didn’t know much about the McCall pack because it meant that they weren’t entirely sure how many Betas Scott was supposed to have and his presence would largely go unnoticed.

By the time they had round up all of the members of their pack, including Allison despite her vehement protests against going, and made it to the Hale house they were very nearly late. Scott glared at all of them with his alpha eyes and they all had the decency to look a bit embarrassed. He rolled his eyes and growled lowly.

 

“Behave. Don’t embarrass our pack and don’t speak unless someone addresses you.”

 

Stiles’ legs bounced with excitement as his hands flexed on the door handle, trying to subtly scent the air.

 

“Yeah, yeah Scotty we know, you heard him puppies. No peeing on the rug, don’t insult anyone, if they offer you food take it but don’t eat until they do, oh and don’t make eye contact with their Alpha or her second or even their next Alpha, or really his second, or well don’t look at anyone. Also Jackson probably don’t talk. That would be best. Actually, can we just leave Jackson in the car? Here I’ll crack a window…”

 

Scott looked across the van at Stiles, leaning to catch his hand before it managed to press the window down button.

 

“When I said no talking unless the Hales or I address you, I meant you too.”

 

Stiles pouted and Scott cuffed him on the back of the head before turning over his shoulder and addressing the people in the back of the van.

 

“Ok so Stiles is my second, you all know that, he sits on my right side. Jackson, you sit on my left. No growling at anything the Hales say to me even if you interpret it as a threat, I don’t want a repeat of our meeting with the Cole pack. Lydia I want you beside Stiles, mostly because I know how bristly Jackson gets when you’re near him in a potentially threatening situation. Danny I want you beside Jackson and dear god keep him calm. Allison beside Lydia.”

 

Stiles smiled and turned back to look at them, flailing his arms in the general direction of Danny and Allison. 

 

“That’s mostly because we need the adorably disarming dimples to tone down how big of a douchebag Jackson is, and how soul-crushingly terrifying Lydia is. Especially now that I can smell the banshee on her.”

 

Stiles exaggerated a dramatic shudder and Lydia glared at him, Jackson letting out a menacing growl. Scott pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

 

“This is going to be a disaster.”

 

The pack tumbled out of the van in a tangle of limbs and Scott shook his head at the sight. Stiles straightened up and rolled his shoulders back, settling quickly into the picture of strong, authoritative second to his Alpha. Scott looked at him, impressed. Stiles threw him a goofy look, sticking out his tongue and shattered the illusion, before sliding effortlessly back into it. Scott sighed and shook his head.

They approached the house as a group, Scott leading and Stiles and Jackson trailing slightly behind him on his flank in an instinctually defensive move. Lydia, Allison and Danny followed in a clump, not bothering with the werewolf posturing going on in front of them. Lydia rolled her eyes at Allison who stifled a giggle behind her hand. Scott reached the front door first, knocking against the solid red door with three short raps. They stood on the porch and waited, hearing shuffling and movement from inside the house.

The door creaked open and Talia Hale stood there in all her glory, gorgeous with a cunning glint in her dark eyes, wavy hair falling around her shoulders. Directly beside her on the left, with an arm around her waist was her mate Daniel, tall and muscular but with a broad smile on his face. Together they made a strong image of an Alpha Pair, clearly equals and both powerful in their own right and clearly fond of each other. Behind her, off her right shoulder, Peter stood, imposing and somehow sinister, examining his claws in feigned disinterest. Off of the left shoulder of his father, Derek Hale stood.

Slightly shorter than his father but more heavily muscled, he had his arms crossed over his broad chest, glaring darkly at the ragtag group of teenagers on his porch as if they were insects. Stiles felt his heart stop in his chest as he was practically bowled over by how much hotter Hot-Hottie-Derek was when Stiles was a werewolf. They were directly across from each other and practically the same height so Stiles took the time to take a good long look at that face during the daytime. What, was this guy crafted by Greek gods? This was entirely unfair. Stiles had always thought that becoming a werewolf made you instantly hotter but after becoming one himself he wasn’t sure of that theory. Also all of the wolves across from them were stupidly attractive so it was probably just good genes. Stiles took a deep breath, trying to quiet his internal monologue and almost choked on his lungs.

 

Dear god. That smell.

 

What on earth was that? His nostrils flared and he looked at Derek and really? Come on. So the guy was unfairly hot _and_ smelled ridiculously good? Stiles wondered not for the first time what he had done to deserve this. He had to dig his claws into his palms to calm down. The leather, motor oil and smoke mixed with a dark foresty smell was almost too much for Stiles to handle. Blood started to well up from his palms and Derek’s eyes snapped from glaring at Scott to look at him in alarm. Stiles immediately felt guilty at the stricken, sick look that filled Derek’s eyes, and nearly threw up himself when he smelled the sharp note of panic in the air. He immediately retracted his claws and looked down, away from Derek.

Talia Hale glanced away from where she was intimidating Scott through the power of her gaze alone and looked at Stiles as if considering his worth. She paused for a moment before a knowing smirk snuck on to her face before clearing her throat and ushering the small pack inside.

 

“Welcome, we have much to discuss.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY IT HAS BEEN SO LONG!
> 
> literally I am the worst. 
> 
> OK so there was a big power outage at my house over Christmas and I got sidetracked by that and then I got back to school and got swept up in that and I am legitimately so sorry it has taken me this long to post a new chapter!

“WHAT?!”

Derek cringed at Cora’s shrill outburst and leveled an unimpressed glare at her. She didn’t even turn away from gaping at her mother, who casually waved her hand dismissively and continued. 

“I said, in light of recent developments, it has become increasingly important to strengthen the relationship between our packs. Because of this, we will be having Hale-McCall pack dinners weekly and rounds will be done in pairs with a member from each pack present.”

Cora growled slightly and Talia’s eyes flashed red at the challenge. Derek sighed and dropped his head against the wall behind him, banging it softly against the wood. The other pack sat quietly, revealing nothing of their feelings about the developments. Derek narrowed his eyes as he examines them. 

“Does anyone have anything they need to say regarding the plan before I start drawing up patrol schedules?”

Everyone shifted slightly under the scrutiny of the Alpha and Derek’s eyes flickered to the twitchy boy off of the McCall Alpha’s shoulder. The boy reached over to tap his Alpha’s knee softly with two fingers, letting his hand linger on the Alpha’s leg, which the alpha allowed. The McCall Alpha - Scott, he reminds himself – looks at the long fingers and then up to the eyes of his second. The slim boy does a complicated wiggle of his brows and his Alpha nods once before turning back to Derek’s mother. The McCall pack studiously looks no one in the eye. 

“I mean no disrespect Alpha…”

Talia laughed softly and shook her head. 

“Alpha McCall, Scott, if we wish for our packs to be allies we should start by abolishing unnecessary formality. Please, call me Talia and I will do you the same respect. As for your Betas” she hesitated slightly on the word, drawing it out in a way that implied her inclusion of the humans and the banshee as well. “They may do as they wish. If it makes them uncomfortable to refer to me in such a way they may call me Alpha, but know it is not necessary.”

She looked to the Betas slightly behind Scott, eyes lingering appraisingly on each of them for a few seconds. Derek watched the skinny boy’s eyes flicker up to meet Talia’s before dropping quickly, as if he wasn’t used to acting his place. Derek’s eyes narrowed as he took in the boy, or perhaps more accurately young man, as the McCall pack seemed hard around the edges, like they had seen things no child could have seen. 

“As for disrespect Mr. McCall, I’m sure whatever you have to say is appropriate, Alpha to Alpha.”

Her look bordered slightly on menacing and Scott paused, as if running through his words for things that would possibly cause offense. Derek found his eyes drawn back to the Alpha and his second, his gaze lingering on the place where the taller boy’s hand still rested on Scott’s leg. Derek tilted his head slightly, examining the posture between the two boys. The one with the moles and the wild hair was beautiful in a way and it made Derek’s wolf take notice. The other boy sat upright in respect to the more powerful Alpha but his lower body was angled slightly towards his second as if he was used to being beside him rather than in front of him. And the hand. 

Long and spidery and firmly there, on the McCall Alpha’s leg like it wasn’t an unusual show of intimacy at an interpack gathering. The gesture didn’t seem possessive or threatening to potential suitors, and it also didn’t seem particularly reassuring. Instead Derek was reminded of the comfortable, lingering touches between his family that occurred without anyone even noticing. The kind of touch that spoke of longstanding kinship and deeply rooted comfort. It was almost a kind of casual ownership, the knowledge that your touch would never be denied, that the one boys hand had as much right to be on the other boys knee as his own knee. Derek burned with curiosity. What kind of relationship was it between them? The boys didn’t look like brothers, or at least not ones related by blood anyways. He took a deep breath, subtly trying to get the scents of the other pack to determine if the boy that Derek’s wolf was reacting to was already mated to his Alpha that he was so casually affectionate with.   
Derek picked out the smell of family and the Hale pack, ignoring the familiar smells easily, instead focusing on the pack seated across from him. 

There was a tangle of scents that was hard to pick apart and he took a few more breaths to figure out the knot of scents that made up the smell of other pack. There was a stench of death covered in floral perfume that he supposed belonged to the banshee, the other girl smelling of wolfsbane, leather and a sweet perfume that made his nose wrinkle. Their other human smelled of expensive cologne and other humans, with a lingering smell of sandalwood and sweat. That left the three werewolves sitting closest. The one to the left of the Alpha made Derek want to roll his eyes, his self-satisfied smile angled towards Derek as if he knew what he was up to. That boy smelled like pressed cotton and gasoline, the floral smell of the banshee clinging to him. He supposed they were mated in a way or at least together in the more human sense. The last lingering smells were easy to separate because they were sparse. Just the smell of the McCall alpha, springy, green and hormonal, and the smell of dried blood. The twitchy wolf had long since healed but the blood stained his shirt where he had wiped his hands absentmindedly. 

 

Derek felt his wolf rumbling in confusion, hackles raising at the unusual wolf’s scent, or more precisely, his lack of scent. Every being, animal, human or werewolf had a recognizable scent, usually broadcasting intent and strong emotions like a red flag. Derek would recognize his family’s scents from miles away. Cora’s blend of men’s deodorant, forest and chalk, his mother’s subtle mix of green apples, soap and the children that regularly hung off her like monkeys. So this stranger was unusual and more worryingly, unpredictable. 

The McCall second could sneak around undetected, his emotions and intents were a mystery. Derek’s wolf snarled slightly. The only smell that clung to him was blood. Of all smells, that was the one that Derek and his wolf hated the most. The salty, coppery, wet smell that spoke of danger and threats, and reminded Derek of things he would prefer to forget.   
Derek’s mother cleared her throat and Peter nudged Derek back into the conversation. Derek blushed slightly at the admonishment from his superior and he shook himself, belatedly noticing that the twitchy wolf was watching him closely with an inscrutable look in his eyes. Derek gazed back, not even blinking. The other wolf looked down and away and Derek tried to hide a smile at the small acknowledgement of his dominance in the dealings. 

“So it’s settled then. The Hale pack will host the dinners on Sunday nights. You will all be expected to attend on a regular basis, but if for some reason one of you can’t come it shouldn’t be a problem. As for the patrol schedule, I will correspond with Scott to match everyone up suitably based on ability and we will work something out. Any problems with the schedule, talk to your respective Alpha. Is everyone clear?”

The pale teen looked up at Derek again, through his lashes and Derek lifted his lip in a snarl, exposing fully human teeth in a threatening manner. The other wolf’s brows bunched up and he looked inexplicably hurt for a moment before he rose to follow his Alpha. Derek’s heart clenched briefly, watching him leave, but he shook himself and then the feeling of distrust was back. He, not for the first time, wondered what on earth he had been thinking suggesting the interpack bonding.


	11. An Alpha's Mate

“Talia and I have been talking and we finally worked out the patrol schedule. I need you guys to take a look over it and make sure that you don’t have something important any night directly after when you’re scheduled for patrol… We might be obligated to help them but I don’t want anyone’s grades suffering.”

 

The McCall pack was gathered at Stiles’ house, sprawled on the furniture on the living room. Danny was half upside down, flipping channels aimlessly. As the pack’s tech guy he wouldn’t have to participate in the rounds, so he tuned out the pack, blankly flipping between an old re-run of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the football game. The rest of the pack was actively engaged in conversation, Jackson glowered from his spot on the couch with Lydia’s feet in his lap. He absentmindedly massaged her feet as he spoke and whenever he stopped Lydia would nudge him with her foot and he would start up again. Allison was sitting in the arm chair facing the door, eyes ever so often flickering to check on it. Scott and Stiles were in a pile on the floor, Scott periodically looking down at Stiles sprawled across his lap with a look of mild confusion. Stiles seemed content to lay half on his friend, rubbing his face against Scott’s ribs. Scott coughed and gently pried him off until Stiles stilled, still clinging to him like a barnacle.

 

“Jackson how come you don’t have the urge to use McCall as your personal cuddle station like Stilinski seems to?”

 

Danny had glanced away from the TV just long enough to ask the question, and flick his eyes towards the two boys aggressively cuddling on the floor and back to Jackson, before returning to the episode of Buffy that was on barely loud enough to hear. Jackson rolled his eyes at the two boys on the floor.

 

“Because I’m not an idiot.”

 

Stiles snorted and lifted his head from Scott’s lap.

 

“Debatable.”

 

Jackson narrowed his eyes and sneered at him, a familiar face from before Jackson was part of the pack. Stiles laughed.

 

“Jealous you’re not getting any Stiles cuddles Jackypoo? Come here big guy, lots of Stilinski love to go around. I’ll have you know that there was this guy who once called me the love machin-“

 

Scott started coughing and Stiles cut off speaking to look at him. Scott looked down at him with wide eyes. Stiles shrugged and settled back against Scott. Lydia rolled her eyes and gestured at the two boys.

 

“To answer the question, Stiles’ instincts are probably trying to figure out where he fits in the pack hierarchy.”

 

She pointed to his posture, head in Scott’s lap, neck exposed, belly slightly twisted to face upwards.

 

“His wolf feels comfortable with Scott, you can tell because he’s exposing all of his vulnerable spots, so he obviously knows Scott is pack. But his instincts are confused because he knows that he isn’t really Scott’s second.”

 

Scott furrowed his eyebrows. Stiles sat up halfway.

 

“Wait what do you mean I’m not his second? I have known this goon since he regularly pissed in his bed and you’re telling me that I’m not his second. Jackson is seriously outranking me on this one?” He turned to Scott, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Oh and you, mister you are in trouble let me tell you. Jackson? Really?”

 

Lydia waved her hand to cut off Stiles’ outraged rant. Stiles huffed, moving slightly towards Scott. Scott put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and Stiles relaxed visibly.

 

“It never mattered when Stiles was human, but you’ve always acted as if you run the pack together. Stiles never deferred to you in any way before and it confuses his instinct because the only person who doesn’t defer to an Alpha is-“

 

Scott sighed defeated, a grimace sliding into place.

 

“His mate.”

 

The words came out of Scott’s mouth as if they burned his tongue. He fought a shudder and Stiles looked up at him with horror, jumping back a foot and a half and looking at his best friend with wide eyes.

 

“Oh my god dude! Really? I’m going to throw up. Oh my god am I your wolf girlfriend now? Lydia please tell me I’m not his wolf girlfriend.”

 

Lydia smirked evilly.

 

“Wife actually.”

 

Stiles gaped at her, flailing his arms. He squawked and fell over he was flailing so hard. She started laughing.

 

“Oh for the love of – you’re kidding. Holy shit thank god you’re kidding. Sorry Scotty, no offense. I love you but I really am not looking to be your wolf wifey at this point in time.” 

 

Scott laughed and raised his eyebrows suggestively and leered at his best friend.

 

“That’s not what your instincts are saying.”

 

Stiles looked at him for a second, filthy smirk crossing his face and he leaned towards his friend. The rest of the pack looked on with wide eyes, suddenly unsure of what was going on.  The two boys closed the gap, faces getting close. Danny looked over from the TV, one brow raised.  Stiles swooped in close to Scott, pressing a quick kiss to his nose, Scott then easily caught him in headlock, rubbing his knuckles through Stiles’ hair in a familiar gesture. Danny shook his head and returned to the television. Lydia looked at them head tilted in thought. She hummed slightly in thought. Allison narrowed her eyes, looking between Lydia and the boys on the floor. She slid her phone out of her pocket, quickly scrolling through a mobile PDF of the Argent Bestiary. She came across what she was looking for and looked up with a noise of triumph.

 

“I also wonder if he’s a little confused because of the whole thing with the Hale Alpha.”

 

Stiles blushed and looked at the floor, picking at the carpet.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

His words came out as a mumble and everyone in the room raised a brow. Jackson snorted, rolling his eyes.

 

“Yeah, ok Stilinski.”

 

Stiles blushed harder and his shoulders drew together as if he was trying to become smaller and ultimately disappear. Scott bumped up against him gently, nudging him into looking up. Scott flashed his Alpha eyes reassuringly and Stiles relaxed. Lydia cleared her throat delicately, looking over curiously at Allison.

 

“What does the Hale Alpha have to do with anything?”

 

Allison looked at Stiles, gauging his reaction to the topic of conversation. When he didn’t appear too bothered she continued.

 

“If his wolf thinks that Derek is his mate, it’s possible that he’ll unconsciously start to emulate the qualities of an Alpha’s mate. In some cases, probably this case actually, his wolf becomes so sure that it’s supposed to be part of an Alpha pair that it starts getting confused around all unmated Alpha’s. Apparently it’s pretty rare and it only ever happens when the wolf’s mate has failed to acknowledge it. Which of course, rarely happens.”

 

Scott nodded slowly.

 

“So basically Stiles has accidentally convinced himself he’s an Alpha’s mate and until he locks one down he’s going to be cuddling every unmated Alpha we come across?”

 

Allison tilted her head back and forth making a noncommittal sound.

 

“I don’t think so?” She sighed and paused to gather her thoughts. “It’s probably more of a combination of factors. And it’s not that he is actually trying to mate with you because he’s not. His instincts just sense a familiar Alpha that he’s never had to defer to before and are going haywire.”

 

Stiles grumbled against Scott.

 

“Can we stop talking about me like I’m not here now?”

 

Everyone looked slightly embarrassed, nodding quickly. Stiles smiled wickedly.

 

“So basically I’m hearing that there’s one solution to this.”

 

Lydia made an enquiring noise and Jackson raised an eyebrow. Scott sighed in defeat and Allison looked amused. Danny didn’t even look away from the TV.

 

“It sounds to me like the only way to stop from wanting to rub all up on Scott is to get Derek to want to rub up on me.”

 

Everyone groaned. Jackson let his head fall back against the couch in exasperation. Scott looked excited, wiggling slightly in place.

 

“Well it’s a good thing I got you and Derek on the same patrol shift then!”

 

Stiles beamed and him, cuffing him lightly on the arm.

 

“Scotty, I don’t say this enough but you are a genius.”

 

Danny snorted and Jackson huffed out a laugh.

 

“Lydia is a genius, Danny is a genius. McCall is not a genius.”

 

Stiles grabbed Scotts head and cradled it against him, blocking Scott’s ears with his hands.

 

“Don’t listen to them Scotty. You are a genius. You’re a love genius.”

 

Allison smirked.

 

“I can second that.”

 

Everyone grimaced and Stiles shuddered.

 

“Gross. That is like the definition of TMI. Also I thought you guys weren’t together anymore. Seriously I cannot keep up with you two.”

 

Scott shrugged easily, smiling in Allison’s direction.

 

“We’re not.”

 

Stiles looked back and forth between them.

 

“So why did she- what are you- oh my god guys really?”

 

Scott and Allison laughed and Stiles got up, brushing imaginary dust off his clothes.

 

“That’s it. Meeting adjourned. I have heard more than enough. Someone put on a movie, I’m going to order pizza.”

 

Stiles wandered into the kitchen and the pack started arguing about what movie to watch. Jackson glared at his girlfriend.

 

“I’m not watching the Notebook again Lydia.”

 

Two hours later they were stuffed full of pizza, watching Ally and Noah declare their love for each other in the rain as Stiles mouthed along with the speech and Lydia sat with a self-satisfied smile curled up against Jackson. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malia is breifly mentioned as Peter's daughter but she is not a main character in any way shape or form. She's just a casual cousin of Derek's who happens to be pack.

“Scott, are we really sure this is entirely necessary? I mean, we could just move. Pack up and move to Alaska. There are probably no werewolves in Alaska. Think of the territory you could have. Tons of space to chase bunnies and raise your puppies. Think about it Scott. Alaska. We could leave right now.”

 

“Shut up Stiles. We’re here for dinner and you are going to behave yourself.”

 

Derek hears footsteps retreating, and a choked off sound that was likely the McCall Alpha catching his second by the hood and pulling him back. It was the first Sunday after the meeting, and the Hale house had been a flurry of activity all day, his mother orchestrating the cleanup and preparation of dinner for two whole packs of werewolves. Derek had been appointed door duty, instructed to actually wait until the pack knocked before opening it by Laura, who claimed that he should hold back his “creeper tendencies” for at least a few weeks, until they were used to his sour face.

Derek had been standing by the door, feeling incredibly foolish and awkward for almost five minutes now. The pack had approached the door and Scott had refrained from knocking for a few minutes to give everyone a brief pep talk and reminder about pack rules, which had quickly deteriorated into petty bickering, excuses that were promptly shot down, and childish whining. And Derek had to stand there and listen to every annoying, awkward second of it, or ignore a direct order.

Derek rolled his eyes and waited, hoping that McCall would just nut up and knock already before the food actually went cold or Derek was forced to disobey and fling the door open and growl at them to _grow up_. His patience was already thin after listening to his sisters and Betas waxing poetic about how sweet and adorable McCall and his little ragtag pack were all week.

 So far, Derek had gotten out of rounds because he had a busy week at work with a number of small forest fires, so the rest of the pack had picked up his shifts, getting the chance to get to know the other pack. Isaac was practically on the verge of proposing an inter-pack marriage, but was hesitating on whether he wanted the hunter girl or the Alpha, after doing rounds with both of them this week, Erica seemed torn between bedding and adopting the McCall second, which had Derek carefully eyeing Boyd for his reaction, but he merely shrugged and smiled in that mysterious way of his. Laura had also come home gushing about Stiles, tittering on about how precious he was, and how he just wanted to cuddle and look after everyone. Derek’s wolf purred a little on the inside for some reason, and Derek found it incredibly confusing and disturbing. He covered his reaction by squinting at her and asking whether the second was a person or a dog. His sister threw her head back in laughter like he was the funniest thing she’d ever encountered and he realized with a pout that she probably wasn’t laughing at his joke.

 Both of his sisters had seemed to develop an immense girl crush on the ball-busting and fiery banshee and her flawless hair, makeup and fashion sense. Cora had come home from rounds on Wednesday loudly proclaiming that she wanted to be Lydia when she grew up. Derek had rolled his eyes and reminded her that they were in the same year at school. Cora had just laughed and patted Derek on the head. Derek was getting sick of being laughed at and patronized with pats on the face and head. His whole pack seemed to be shifting alliance to _Scott McCall_ , making him grumpy all week. Eventually Cora had figured him out, wrapping him up in a hug sandwich with Laura and Erica, smiling softly and telling him gently that no one could ever replace their grumpy brother as their packmate and future leader. He had huffed and tried to explain that he was not jealous, he was annoyed, and Laura laughed, nudging Cora and whispering about Derek and Stiles and how she couldn’t wait to see what would happen when they met properly. Derek had growled and stomped off, sick of hearing about how great the McCall pack was.

So here he was, pissed off and waiting for these annoying _children_ to get it together and just knock already so that they could get dinner over with and go about their lives. Derek was also dreading this coming week, knowing that it would soon be his turn to do rounds with the McCall pack.

Finally, after what seemed like years to Derek, there was a rapping on the door. He counted to five, hearing a whispered “Last chance for Alaska…” and a sharp smack and snickering on the other side of the door. He opened the door and stepped aside, silently inviting them in. He was greeted by a sunny smile from McCall, a scowl from the wolf with the sharp jawline, and wary looks from the banshee and humans, purposely ignoring the McCall second. Derek was still wary of the wolf that didn’t smell of anything other than _other pack_ , despite how nice that wolf’s face might be. Derek desperately tried to ignore the feeling of eyes on him, instead politely offering to take the jackets of the pack members. He heard his mother calling out a greeting from deeper within the house, a sentiment that was quickly returned by Scott out of respect.

Derek motioned for them to follow him into the dining room where the entire pack had helped to lay out a frankly staggering amount of food. The pack of teenagers looked at the food with wide eyes and a quick glance around the table showed off a huge number of chairs, some which didn’t match, having been brought from other parts of the house, so that both packs would fit at the table. There were spots for all of the McCall pack and the Hales over the age of 16, the kids sequestered off in the living room around the television, where they could be loud and rowdy without bothering the serious pack discussions that would likely happen over dinner, meaning that there were twenty chairs to seat all of the teenagers, Derek’s parents, Peter and his wife and daughter, and a few other aunts and uncles. Talia entered the room, carrying a huge platter of various meats, setting it on the table with a smile and gesturing at the empty chairs.

 

“Please, sit. We’ll start dinner in just a few minutes, there are a few more things I need to grab from the kitchen but then we can eat.”

 

Scott made the first move towards the table, hesitating briefly and eyeing the Hale Alpha to make sure that there wasn’t a specific seat she had laid claim to that he was about to take. She tilted her head at him consideringly, a small smile playing on her face. Talia’s eyes flicked quickly between Scott, Stiles standing close at his shoulder and Derek.

 

“Why doesn’t your pack spread out so we can all get to know each other a bit?”

 

Scott nodded stiffly, and his pack moved to the table, putting a few chairs between themselves. Talia turned to Derek.

 

“Derek please go grab the potatoes while we settle in.”

 

It wasn’t an order. Not really, but Derek did as he was told anyways, walking into the kitchen and scooping up two giant, heavy bowls of potatoes. When he came back to the dining room all the chairs had been filled except two, one beside the cute, twitchy, _distracting_ wolf Derek has been avoiding all day and one beside his mother. Looking around the table he noticed that his father was absent, and he projected his senses through the house, eventually picking up the sound of him rustling around in the basement, probably picking out wine. Derek sighed and moved to sit beside the pale teenager with the hands that Derek finds immensely distracting, knowing that if he took his father’s spot he would be indirectly challenging his father’s place in the pack.

            As Derek slid into the seat beside the boy, the boy turned to face him with a hesitant smile, moving as if he was about to touch Derek on the shoulder. Derek instinctively flinched away slightly and the boy’s spidery hands hung in the air awkwardly for a moment before flailing around a bit and landing on the table with a loud bang.

 

“I’m Stiles. Um sorry about hitting the table. I’m still not used to … my arms I guess. I’ve only had them eighteen years so... ”

 

Derek looked at the boy like he was a mystery, but not one that he particularly wanted to solve and the boy trailed off, covering up how uncomfortable he was with a cough. He turned away and Derek caught the movement of Stiles catching Scott’s eyes and sending a pained look his way.

 

“If you want to go sit with your mate, I’m sure Isaac will switch with you.”

 

Scott choked on his water across the table, Isaac scrambling to thump him on the back. Isaac looked at Scott, then at Stiles, nostrils flaring, raising one eyebrow in question, Derek shrugged slightly in response. Stiles started laughing.

 

“He is most definitely not my mate. I think the word you were actually looking for is _brother_. In fact, I’m pretty sure the state of California would legally classify a relationship between us as incest. I have seen that guy eat dirt. What is less sexy than that? Probably nothing. Actually one time I saw him eat a rabbit when he was wolfed out and when he turned back he had fur tufts in his teeth and watching him pick that out of his mouth was pretty unsexy too. Not that there’s anything wrong with eating rabbits if you’re into that. Or dirt I guess. Whatever floats your boat, whatever tickles your fancy, whatever-“

 

Scott had finally managed to stop coughing and a silence had fallen over the table. Stiles stopped mid-sentence and then shut his mouth so quickly that his teeth clicked together. He smiled tightly and everyone looked at him with thinly veiled amusement. Cora and Malia shared a look, giggling quietly at Derek, Stiles, Scott and Isaac, like this was their new favorite reality television program. Derek scowled and it made Cora laugh harder.  Talia cleared her throat to start a quick address to the pack before starting to serve food. As she opened her mouth to speak, a tearing, growling roar came from the direction of the woods, followed by a chorus of howls. Every wolf in the room’s eyes flared and suddenly they were all on alert, going from casual dinner atmosphere to defensive in seconds flat.

 

The alpha pack was here.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG I AM THE ACTUAL WORST. 
> 
> I promise you that the next chapter will not take so long. I just got unmotivated and was unsure where I wanted this to go and exams and blah blah blah excuses you don't want to hear, anyways I'm sorry.

“Peter, take Boyd, Erica and Cora and set up a perimeter around the entrance to the panic room. Guard the back door and watch all possible directions of attack.”

 

Peter nodded and flicked his hands, unleashing his claws, Erica, Boyd and Cora rising calmly and stalking towards the back of the house. Talia turned to the next group that was still seated at the table, frozen in a tableau of shock. The only one standing was Scott, drawn to his feet by the challenge roar from the Alpha pack.

 

“Derek and Stiles, round up all the children and humans not trained in combat in an orderly fashion and get them ready to move. Stay calm, but protect them with your life. The last thing we need is a feral parent tonight.”

 

Derek nodded and moved quickly but calmly into the den where the children were, the sound of the Jungle Book still soft in the background. Stiles pushed to his feet, knocking the chair over in his haste and followed Derek, a ball of panic settling heavy in his stomach. When he entered into the den he was almost bowled over by how strongly he needed to protect the wide eyed and frightened children. The smallest one looked up at him with round green eyes, clutching a ragged wolf toy to his chest and quietly whining in fear. Stiles didn’t even hesitate to scoop him up and cuddle the tiny body against his chest.

 

“Scott, you and Jackson need to guard the front door with Daniel and Malia. Make sure no one sneaks up on us while we are preparing. Isaac, call Deaton and have him pack his bag and wait by the phone, I have a feeling we might be needing him.”

 

Stiles could still hear the other room, listening to the Alpha’s orders for the command that it was safe to move the children and Danny and Lydia into the safe room. Stiles rumbled gently at the toddler, briefly pressing his face to the soft hair on the top of the child’s head. Stiles’ heart broke slightly at how much he looked like the rest of the Hales, especially Derek. The toddler smelled like Laura though, and the child that rushed over to cling to his side did as well. She was older, probably six or seven, her hair in uneven pigtails. She pressed her face against Stiles’ stomach, muffling her whimpers in his shirt. He wrapped a protective arm around her, petting her head with a careful hand.

 

“Allison, we have a weapons store upstairs which you are welcome to, but no one will think less of you if you prefer to join Stiles and the children.”

 

Stiles heard Allison laugh and then politely decline the offer to retreat, immediately asking after the whereabouts of their weapon store. Stiles smirked slightly. From outside there was a growl of warning and a vicious challenging snarl. Stiles tightened his hold on the small boy in his arms, shifting him to one side so that he could scoop up another wide eyed child. This one didn’t seem be more than five but was nearly paralyzed, letting out little hiccoughing sobs. He smelled like Peter and clung to Stiles’ side when Stiles hoisted him up. The girl with the pigtails looked up at Stiles seriously and he smiled at her tightly, hoping to convey that nothing bad would happen.

            He glanced over at Derek to see him similarly laden with children, and he couldn’t stop an amused smile from taking up residence on his face. Two lanky girls that seemed like twins clung to his back and he held an infant carrier in his left hand and the hand of a shy looking preteen boy in his right. Danny and Lydia lingered in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Stiles looked at Derek pointedly and Lydia moved towards him, hands outstretched to take the infant carrier from him. Derek bared his fangs and growled at her. She stopped moving and spread her hands in a gesture of innocence, averting her eyes. Stiles was proud of her. She might not be a wolf but she understood the dynamics and the body language better than anyone else in the pack. She looked at Stiles and shrugged. He rolled his eyes and gestured at her to try again. Derek’s eyes flared blue and his growling got louder as she shifted to move towards him. Stiles flashed his gold eyes at Derek and rumbled reassuringly and Derek’s eyes flickered and went out, his growling getting softer but not disappearing.

“Derek, it’s ok. Let her take the baby. We need to go.”

 

Derek turned to Stiles, his teeth still fangs.

 

“She smells like death.”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows.

 

“ _She_ smells like a banshee. Which _she_ is. Now hand over the carrier so that if it comes down to it you can use your claws to defend yourself and the rest of the children.”

 

Derek hesitated and Stiles let out a soft little growling huff that caused Derek’s whole body to relax. His claws receded and his teeth morphed from fangs to flat human teeth. Lydia edged towards him and put her hand on the carrier alongside his. He flinched slightly but allowed her to pry the handle from his hand.

 

From outside the house they heard snarling and the sound of a fight starting. It was the distraction they were waiting for.

 

“Alright you two, it’s time to move.”

 

Talia’s voice was soft but deadly serious. Stiles moved to the doorway, handing the two small boys off to Danny and shifting himself in front of the older girl. She clung to the back of his shirt, bracketed on either side by Danny and Lydia. Derek maneuvered the twins onto the floor in front of him, and pushed the girls and the taller boy into a clump with the humans and the rest of the children, flanking the pack protectively, his claws at the ready. Stiles readied himself for anything that could be on the other side of the door, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. Talia opened the door and ushered them through the house to the basement doors. They could hear the sounds of fighting and splintering wood from outside and all of the children let out small sounds of fright and alarm, the small grouping between Derek and Stiles compacting and shrinking in size. Derek had his back to the small group, carefully monitoring the sounds of the fight. Stiles had almost reached the door to the basement when the sound of the front door splintering sounded through the house. He sped up considerably, wrenching open the heavy metal doors and ushering the children and humans in. Derek was tense and growling behind him and he heard a woman’s laughter that made his blood cold.

            Talia snarled and lunged at her and Stiles grabbed the back of Derek’s shirt, hauling him through the doorway of the heavy metal door and sliding the thick bolts into place as the sound of a body hitting the metal door echoed through the near silent basement. Derek growled and finished securing the basement door, checking the locks over a second and then a third time, and then pausing to flick on the lights.

Stiles noticed with relief that it wasn’t a scary cement safe room like he was fearing. The space was bright and warm, but the walls were heavily reinforced concrete and the door steel and impenetrable. There were two doors off the main space, one open to reveal a bathroom and the other a store room where food and water could be seen on shelves. The main space was carpeted and painted a cheery yellow. There was a collection of children’s books and toys in a box in the corner and a dusty VCR and television combination with a shelf over it containing old Disney movies. There was a large blanket fort off to one side that sagged alarmingly in one corner, but covered a large pile of pillows and blankets that smelled like pack and children. Along one wall was three sets of bunk beds, the bedding stripped off, no doubt to be added to the blanket fort. The space seemed well worn and incredibly safe to Stiles, even with a few suspiciously rusty looking stains half covered by a throw rug in front of the small couch in front of the television.

 

“Playroom slash panic room?”

 

Derek shrugged in response.

 

“The kids like that it’s safe, and it smells like pack. We spend moons with the ones too young to shift fully down here.”

 

Stiles nodded, absently noticing that his claws were still out and sheathing them. Derek followed suit and the panic and fear started to seep out of the children. The oldest one tugged on Derek’s shirt and Derek looked at him. He nodded at the blanket fort and Derek rolled his eyes.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

The pre-teen butted his head against Derek’s shoulder and then practically ran for the large fort. Stiles heard a ruffling of paper and determined that he had started reading. The girl who hadn’t let go of Stiles’ shirt since they had left wiggled out from behind him and joined him, the other kids following suit, albeit slightly slower. Lydia and Danny moved to the couch, settling the baby carrier gently on the ground. The smallest boy, still clutching his wolf to his chest peeked out of the fort and looked at Stiles with his big green eyes.

 

“He wants you to go play with him.”

 

Stiles turned to Derek, startled.

 

“Huh?”

 

Derek gestured at the toddler who was still looking like he might burst into tears at any moment.

 

“He’s scared. He wants you close by.”

 

Stiles looked between the little boy and Derek a few times, noticing the similarities between the two of them.

 

“Why me?”

 

Derek shrugged.

 

“He likes you, for whatever reason.”

 

Stiles gaped.

 

“Excuse me?”

Derek smirked and turned his back on Stiles, prowling through the room, checking every nook and cranny and then the locks again. Stiles moved towards the blanket fort, playfully growling. The little boy looking at him giggled and hid his face behind chubby hands.

 

“Who wants to meet the tickle monster?”

 

He descended on the little boy with his human fingers outstretched in mock threat and the little boy squealed happily and laughed when Stiles began tickling him. Derek rolled his eyes.

 

“Children.”

 

Stiles peeked his head out of the fort.

 

“Are you calling me a child?”

 

Derek raised his eyebrows. Stiles shrugged one shoulder and smirked and ducked back into the fort. 

 

“I’m gonna eat you up, om nom nom.”

 


End file.
